Two Eyes Cenote I can only think to say:

Anselm had stood atop Sky Mesa and drank in the warm summer air. He'd supped his fill of an endless navy sky, counted thousands of stars beyond counting, and watched the moon as it strode magnificently across a bed of glittering indigo.

Of course, he'd thrown his voice to the sky too, as he promised himself he would -- and as his cry thinned out into the balmy air he caught a pair of twinkling eyes in the lowlands below. Two pools of distant water, nestled in shadowy green.

He made his way to that distant point, breathing in the soft breeze that carried with it the story of a thousand desert things; the lives of lizards and scorpions, of bats and fruiting bodies of cactus who turned their flowers towards the bright face of a waxy yellow moon.