It was in the fading day
as we sped along down the road
cracked, faded, thunderously jarring,
with tar filled veins, unfilled holes
and faded white lines leading
where neither one of us wanted to go,
that I pulled us over for relief
and stepped out to water the desert.
Caught midstream and mid-thought,
I heard the dry stillness of the Desert
and Its impertinence to be never the less.
I felt Its temperature dropping insistence
to be on our way, heard my Girl grumbling
(as I had left her running) "Must get going".
I got behind the wheel and put her in gear
but stopped just before releasing the brake.
Up and out across that sunset field,
divided by our asphalt path,
shimmered a timid petaled desert flora
speckled among shards of shimmering glass
and I whispered down the road:
"So flowers grow...
everywhere".
