Sun beamed dust riding
The distant mirage is blinding
Boots melting, dirt frying
Past two cascades
Up and down orange, cracked caves.
Horses sit for days.
Rocks, trained.
Snap back into freedom
Rebel against wooden planks
Feel the wind on hooves, how yellow grass fades.
Builds back green brigades.
A fly landed in a lonely place
His wings kept beating, wanted grace.
Eyes unfocused. A piece of barley wasn't whole.
A grain of salt, a dry home.