desolation-of-mojave-desertAt the unveiling of each morning
I wake to find I am but
A husk of what was—
The chaff of yesterday lying useless
On a ground that proves no purchase
Destined to be swept away
By the dusty winds of a bitter dawn

The challenge of daybreak is lying still
Lying still and letting the breezes blow me as they may
And lying, still, about possibilities and promises
To myself and the onlookers who see in me
A ripe fecund source of nourishment and hope
All the while knowing
The juices that once sustained me
Are drying up and leaving behind dying seeds
Kernels of wisdom never sprouted
The germ of genius stunted and withered
On the cracked, parched bed of time

© Thomas Horton, 2006

Public Domain Photo