"The desert bears only a scathing sun, and nothing more."
"What about mirages?"

Wednesday, September 8, 2010


I walk past bark
sheeted in lichen.
Above me,
green dappled yellow leaves
droop with the rain.
A line of cement,
cold, slick, wet,
beneath my feet.

I stop
breath in humidity.
And fall in love
with precipitation.

1 comment:

  1. Really clever, JB. Like the line falling in love with precipitation. Good job.


"Write with our backs to the wind and our faces to the hard, bleaching sun."