Dry, encumbered,

breathless, and vague.

I’m numb to the heat,

Breathing deeply.

Eyes drift forward

closed and somber,

Whipped by the air.

Noses stifled, wet,

lacking.

The sky grows cold against this dry despair.

The mountains grown old against the cold, dry air.

The trees dip down for sweet retreat.

The wind runs harder, tired and bleak.

When the first drops drip,

my heart’s distracted.

Pacing the rhythm

of the puddles now blasting.

The dust lifted,

my skin ecstatic.

Stretching forward,

I feel the sky.

The sky and ground too happy to meet.

Their hugs go long,

miles deep.