Desert Days

A dry wind blows the stars around this night.

Off, way down low an owl calls to the hills.

The mouse hops from shrub to shrub on the cooling sand.

The moon seems larger, full and round.

The campfire dies as the night deepens.

I am alone.

 

The long road stretches out.

A ribbon of black lost in the endless wastes.

A tumble weed rolls by.

My eyes burn.

Sand or tears, I don’t know.

A dry lake bed is split by my travels.

It is dead, like my heart.

I am alone.

 

There is no life here.

None that I can see.

Just long days of endless sun and sand.

The whisper of the wind outside, mirrors the cry of my soul.

The flaps of my tent rustle.

No one save me to stare at the night.