The warm sun built a thin band of sweat under my old Stetson, while a sweet, summer breeze gently blew across my face, cooling my skin. I closed my eyes and rested peacefully in the saddle; listening to the air wheeze through the long, dried prairie grass and the cattle contently munching.
Summer was mature now, and the memory of winter seemed so long ago.

I watched the sun lower itself down past the rolling hills, like an old man slowly dropping in a big easy chair at the end of the day.