I fly to the desert to see my first friend and to bake the remains of winter from my bones. I purchase thunderbirds to keep me warm. I climb Echo Canyon, my heart reverberating back to me a true sound. The red stones are worn smooth like the steps of a cathedral. I wonder what it is in us that makes us want to climb to the top of things. Saguaros bear witness, their insides plucked out by cactus wrens. I stand at the edge. The wind makes the hoops in my ears sing. Red-tailed hawks circle me. A yucca shoots a spike of yellow blossoms to the sky, I must remember to do the same. Below me, the desert blooms like Frida Kahlo’s dresses.