From the desert floor a
veil of mist rises from the
hardships of last night.
Everything moves in slow motion.
There are no winds to push
the sand to the next arroyo.
Cactus absorbs mornings
moisture. Creatures spread
their colors in search of
today’s menu. The sky beams
a bright blue not listed on any
paint charts. Yesterdays
footprints are just memories where
nothing lasts just lying around.
A truck passes on a nearby road.
The tires sing over blacktop.
A diner up ahead has coffee
and burnt toast. Men with hats
and well-worn gloves sit at the
counter. They eat quietly.
Roger Singer 