Cherish sunsets, wild creatures and wild places. Have a love

Host: The desert stretched out endlessly — a vast ocean of ochre and gold beneath a bruised sunset sky. The air trembled with heat still rising from the sand, though the evening wind had begun to whisper through the sagebrush, carrying the faint scent of earth after light rain. In the distance, a small campfire flickered — fragile against the immensity of the land, but alive, defiant.

Jack sat cross-legged near the flames, his hands warmed by their glow. Jeeny sat beside him, her hair moving gently with the wind, her eyes on the horizon, where the dying sun bled into violet and fire. Around them, silence reigned — not the silence of absence, but of reverence.

Jeeny: “Stewart Udall once said, ‘Cherish sunsets, wild creatures and wild places. Have a love affair with the wonder and beauty of the earth.’”

Host: Her voice seemed to belong to the landscape — steady, hushed, and ancient. Jack looked at her, then back at the sunset, his eyes reflecting its fading blaze.

Jack: “A love affair with the earth, huh? That’s poetic. But love affairs end, Jeeny. People forget. They move on.”

Jeeny: “Not this one. The earth doesn’t leave you. You leave her.”

Jack: “You sound like a preacher.”

Jeeny: “No. Just someone in love.”

Host: The last arc of sun slipped below the horizon. The sky deepened — indigo spreading like ink over parchment. The first stars appeared, shy and trembling, while the desert cooled and came alive. A distant coyote cried, its voice echoing across miles of emptiness.

Jack: “You know, it’s strange. We spend our whole lives inside rooms, offices, screens… Then we come out here, and it’s like the world reminds us we’re guests — not owners.”

Jeeny: “Exactly. That’s what Udall meant. We treat the planet like property instead of poetry.”

Jack: “Property’s easier to monetize.”

Jeeny: “And poetry’s easier to destroy.”

Host: The firelight flickered across their faces — warm, alive, revealing both weariness and awe.

Jack: “You think loving the earth is enough to save it?”

Jeeny: “Love is the only thing that ever saves anything.”

Jack: “You really believe that?”

Jeeny: “Of course. You can’t protect what you don’t love.”

Host: A soft wind swept through, scattering embers upward like stars trying to return home. The desert seemed to listen to them now, every grain of sand leaning in.

Jack: “You know, when I was a kid, I used to climb onto my dad’s roof just to watch the sunset. Didn’t have mountains, didn’t have desert — just telephone poles and smog. But when the light hit right, even that looked holy.”

Jeeny: “That’s the thing about wonder — it doesn’t ask for perfection. It just asks for attention.”

Jack: “And we’ve forgotten how to give it.”

Jeeny: “We’ve forgotten how to pause.”

Host: She reached down, sifting her fingers through the sand, letting it slide between them — soft, ancient, eternal.

Jeeny: “The earth isn’t asking for worship. It’s asking for intimacy. To notice the way wind touches a leaf, the way dusk wraps the world in forgiveness.”

Jack: “Forgiveness?”

Jeeny: “Yes. Every sunset forgives the day. No matter how ugly it was.”

Host: The fire crackled. The desert, endless and unblinking, seemed to lean closer still.

Jack: “You talk like the earth’s alive.”

Jeeny: “It is. You think beauty like this happens by accident?”

Jack: “No. But it dies by neglect.”

Jeeny: “Then stop neglecting it.”

Host: Her words struck like gentle thunder — soft, but impossible to ignore. Jack stared into the fire, his face reflected in its shifting orange.

Jack: “You ever feel small out here?”

Jeeny: “That’s the point. You have to feel small to understand greatness.”

Jack: “So, humility is the price of wonder?”

Jeeny: “Always.”

Host: A shooting star tore through the night — swift, silent, brilliant — gone before he could make a wish. Jeeny saw it too, her eyes following its path.

Jeeny: “That’s what Udall meant by ‘love affair.’ It’s not romanticism — it’s gratitude. To fall in love with something fleeting and still choose to care for it.”

Jack: “But people don’t fall in love with what they can’t control.”

Jeeny: “And that’s why the world is dying.”

Host: Silence again — the kind that carries truth like a weight. The wind shifted, cooler now, the desert scent rich and grounding.

Jack: “You ever wonder what we’ll leave behind? When the cities crumble, when the oceans rise — what will they say about us?”

Jeeny: “That we were clever. And careless.”

Jack: “That’s a brutal epitaph.”

Jeeny: “It’s an honest one.”

Host: The flames dipped, their light now soft as memory. Jack reached for a stick, prodded the embers.

Jack: “You think there’s still time to fall back in love with the earth?”

Jeeny: “There’s always time. But love requires presence. And we’ve been absent for a long time.”

Jack: “You sound like you want to save it.”

Jeeny: “No. I want to serve it.”

Host: She looked up at the sky again, her face calm, the reflection of stars caught in her eyes.

Jeeny: “The planet doesn’t need us to save it, Jack. It needs us to remember that we belong to it. We’re not its masters — we’re its moment.”

Jack: “And moments fade.”

Jeeny: “Yes. But beauty isn’t meant to last — it’s meant to move you.”

Host: A long pause. The fire hissed softly. Somewhere far off, the cry of an owl broke the silence, ancient and alive.

Jack: “You think that’s enough? Loving it, seeing it, knowing it’ll all end?”

Jeeny: “It has to be. Love without permanence is still love. Maybe even purer.”

Host: The night wrapped around them — vast, infinite, tender. The stars shimmered like a memory of every soul who had ever looked up and gasped in awe.

Jeeny: “Cherish sunsets, wild creatures, wild places… because they remind us who we are when we stop pretending to be more.”

Jack: “And who’s that?”

Jeeny: “Children. Borrowers of beauty.”

Host: The last ember faded into blackness. The desert exhaled. And for a moment — brief, sacred, whole — the earth and its witnesses shared one breath.

Because Stewart Udall was right —
to love the world is not a luxury,
it’s a responsibility.

To cherish is to belong.
To notice is to protect.
And to stand beneath the vast, wild sky,
heart open and unafraid,
is the only true way to pray.