Dawn in tomorrows mystery.

The grains of silt blow across the plane.

piled loosely on alkaline rifts,

Blown here, there and into nowhere.

Pelted by the long-lost rain of memories

Heat of the playa

Finds borders in chaotic upheaval events.

still there she walks silently

The quiet open of the land of death.

Resides there in Desert Everlasting

Fissures separate a landscape

Devoid of soil, but still.

In that open place, a solitary bush grows

Created int he midst of her path

A seed perhaps, fallen from her garments.

Bringing life where all had ceased to exist.

by Poetic_Cougar at yahoo.com

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