During the day, the desert is a quiet thing. Scorching heat leaves all life running for shelter. Vultures pick the last meat from sun-bleached bones. When the sun goes down, from the dust, the desert comes alive. Coyotes yip, toads sing their songs, wild pigs scream from the brush.
That desert gave us agave.
That agave gave us Madre Mezcal.
Madre Mezcal isn’t for those who believe in “Early to Bed, Early to Rise”
It’s for those who live:
From Dusk ‘till Dawn.
