Beneath the merciless orb,
between the anemically verdant sage,
beside the diminishing river of summer,
tears and sweat mingle.

In this, Ezekiel’s scorched land,
dusty apparitions emerge
with each footfall.

What might have been,
what could have been,
arid visions come & go with the footdust.

With glistening skin of sweat,
the wanderer searches and scans,
praying for a breezy arbor.

And the breath of God,
ripples across the waters,
provoking river grasses to pirouette in joy.

Breathing across parched lands,
the holy, wafting spirit inhales
the sage, earth wisdom of the fields.

Enfolding the dispirited traveler,
the sacred breath spirals,
answering prayer with affirmation.

Damp skin suckles at Mother’s breath,
as the scent of earth wisdom upon heaven’s breath,
brings contentment, peace, and hope to the weary one.