a rover's trail, ladder steep
through the creeping down
of golden grass
Shale slipping under foot
and a quail alarmed
and flighty
on a grease-bush stick
Cactus blooms shriveled
crepe-paper thin,
my fingers tracing
the parched folds of summer's fire
A rock face, ore-stained,
an enduring likeness
of primal spirit,
the vigilant one
There I sat and watched the birth
of days like a monument
of flesh and bone
needing nothing but to breathe
Exceptional.
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