Tuesday, April 17, 2012


I rest a moment
beneath the tree.
Wiping my brow, I survey
the surrounding countryside.

Sweeping plains,
painted in shades of brown and red,
accentuated by pockets of brown grass
dotted across the landscape.

Everything is withered,
even me.
My throat is parched like the scene before me,
behind me,
surrounding me.
This desert's sand fills me,
scratching my throat and
choking my lungs, until
I can't breathe.

I investigate the tree,
its gnarled trunk thick with age
like grandma's vein-clad legs,
its arching branches hanging low,
its leaves tickling the dust
like mother's broom,
sweeping away the evidence of
my intrusion.

I should head back now—
they'll be looking for me.
Mother will be worried, and
Pa will get mad.

But there is nothing familiar here;
the space is all new and
I'm not sure which way to go.

I am certain this tree lured me here.
It must have had a good reason, and
now its shade is so tempting…

Perhaps if I lie down for a while,
all will become clear.

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