Sometimes I'm low.
and quiet
not really despondent
or depressed
just
low.

And quiet.

She says she doesn't like the desert,
says it's ugly
and I can't help but wonder
why?
And she's sometimes quiet
but never low.
I think maybe the desert is in me
and when lowness abounds
the wind whips the dunes of my soul
and shapes me as it sees fit
that wind is the sound in my ear
just
before
sleep finally takes me.

and although we wouldn't know what to do with it
even if we had it,
we will pray on for
rain.