Think, think, think
Still not a drop of ink
The page lies bare,
As does my stare
Indifferent and dull
My mind has nothing to mull
Only the wish to write,
Not a thought in sight

Its leaves fold,curl in
Their grip yields to the cold wind
The elm knows their loss

The desert sky is vast
A heavy blue spanning far
Rippling with the sun’s heat

Cacti line the horizon
Like an uneven barbwire fence
As the sky turns to orange

Like a flame licking the world
Dry and thirsty for a drop of water
The sun sinks into the Earth