For a week or more in the summer of 2001, fires burn through northern New Mexico, decimating forests in the Pecos Wilderness and Los Alamos and creating thick gray smoke that threatens the people in Santa Fe. People have to evacuate their homes due to fire damage or smoke and firefighters are battling the flames day and night. No one knows when the monsoon season will begin. My friends from Santa Fe come to stay in Albuquerque to escape the smoke. We gather in the backyard of my friend’s house and drum and sing songs about rain, dance for rain, express our longing for rain in every language we know. We know that we don’t have any idea how to call the clouds or if it is even possible to conjure rain, but we ask the skies for help as plainly as we can for all the beings in danger…