A sitar sings
Her notes carried on the wind
Like cactus seeds
I brew the roots
And drink the juice
Of desert dreams

Each cup is filled
And cold toes are warmed
By little spills
My hands are scorched
Dunes are grabbing my ankles
And pulling me forward

To the cross-legged drums
They sound like water droplets
Each beat flows
In a pool of stone
Caressing the ears of cicadas
as their legs pierce the heat
of the hailed sun