Desert Writing

a single tree amidst scrubland sunbleached pale,
tall, fine, strong---moored in
rocky ground--the shifting
plates sigh and grind against
one another in their dark sweet tectonics

green-scented thick, branches reaching
for heaven, sloping, too, towards
earth, twisting trunk
deep-ridged rough, a sure support
to lean long against

and weep for what was--this arid
expanse all around, the lack
of shade, parched throat a burning
road for whispers, low moans,
yes, yes, and yet--no

a single tree, fragrant, many-veined,
sap-thick, shading, steadfast in
this desert fire, each grain of sand
a second, time shifting in waves,
writing words upon the earth in her fluid script