A battle ground from this scorched land where wild flowers use
to grow has left me borrowed and bruised.
I am not who I once was. I used to see flowers in the hills. Where
I wanted to explore.
The canyon black skids marks has tampered this field of bright
green light.
My induced breathing is narrow. My fear keeps me here under
the burrow.
I must go before the crow awakes. Breathe deeply. This is the
first take.