John David West
U.S.A.

DESERT SOLSTICE, JUNE 21ST

quiet land, a dusty path
etched into scorched terrain

sound is lost, canyon’s hot blaze

a hushed oven breeze burns
my shoulders, dries my tongue

weeds tumble by in runaway
soccer ball angles

steps crunch over sediments
announcing my approach
with an air raid siren howl

jackrabbits appear, then thud
away, sights of long ears remain

talking to myself, conversation is lost
in the absurdity of my own voice

words crushed under weight
of stillness, empty and useless

thirst demands attention, 2 liters
of crystalline hydration, opened,
consumed in rushing rapids force

I stand, red trail of sand and rocks
ahead

hawk glides near cliff’s edge
in slow motion timelessness,
his shriek consumed by space

the ache of silence felt again,
my ears fill with quiet density

I’m just a visitor in well constructed
boots covered with dust.

 

Copyright, John David West.
All Rights Reserved by Author.