Soaking the small of your back.
Breath comes short, hard
And dry as the dust
Kicked up with every downward step.
Loose rocks scatter, spiral
Hammering as hard as your heart.
Grasp parched grasses,
Track turns to pebbles turns to
The smell of salt,
And a thousand shades of turquoise.
All the skies, lakes, rivers, seas.
Of all the endless blues.
Of all the long, long endless blues