The sands of the desert are calm and quiet.
A snake makes himself into a pen
and draws the longest letter I have ever seen.
The lizards push against the rocks
up and down, up and down --
inmates of Hell's own fitness spa.
The gila monster is still where I last saw him.
And above it all, the cactus, centuries old --
Old Man of the Desert --
yet an infant of the sands and rock.
And me, with my pen.
What can I say?
I am always thirsty.
