Cracked earth and fallen cottonwood twigs,

bare branches sweep the sky.

Walking the long road, heavy trucks rumble away,

away up dry hill.

Mountains embrace this flat place,

mud walls embrace the people.

Shuffling along wooden sidewalks

with a strange highway straight through the heart of town,

I am a fish out of water.

The dust that settles behind my scales,

lines deepening in dryness,

may show its true face yet and whisper

a magic too quiet

for a busy brain to hear.

A slowing grows

and this fish can sense that breath is still possible

where the sun shines continuously

and rain gathers in the prayers

of the ones living here.