~ ~ ~ Desert World
The desert's breath comes quietly, draping itself over the jagged contour of its mountain precipices, sifting the fine sand over endless aisles of Joshua trees and tumble weeds. It comes slowly and gently, letting itself move at a steady pace across the valley. There is no one to hear it, there is no one to see it. Its sound is carried nowhere, not far enough for even the rocks and stones to notice. It stirs up tiny bit of leaves and tree bark and sends them away toward the setting sun. The warmth of the earth allows it rise, the cool air of the perfect blue sky allows it to sink. The instantaneousness with which my mind captures these images and sounds and vibratory empathy is something like the quick release mechanism of a metal photographic shutter. It gates them in and prohibits their mingling with other memories, at least for the time being.