Desert Life

The early morning mist
clings to the cactus
in drops of precious
moisture, soft
diamonds glistening

1 put my lips to the
lichen and feel my skin
moisten, parched tongue
refreshed, precious
water slips  

down my throat drop by precious
drop but as the air
depletes the moisture
and it dries
withering on each spine

I move on, my
silent wondrous feast
denied as the
day dives into
desert orange sun and dust.
Nu Sculon Herigean
Return to Collections all
next poem