The Desert

Think of the dusty tumbleweeds

Or the splintered gates to secluded ranches,

Insignificant against the great blue unifier

On a breezy, sunny, empty day.

Think of the sedated stillness

Or the fine dust which gathers on amber sills,

As if to enjoy the warmth of a sun so close

Or waiting for a cool cloud to pass.

Think of all the things we’d think

Of the desert

If we were here

Only visiting.