Wednesday, October 27, 2004

Rain in the desert is mystical. To the west there is a silvery mist floating off the mountains. My eyes can just pierce the fog enough to see snow. To the east I face vast open space and two distant volcanos. They are long since extinct. This is an ancient land. Occasionally I find native artifacts, carvings in the rocks, grinding tools, pieces of broken pottery – a memory of a vanished people. My desert is made of decomposing granite and when it rains it gives off a wonderful scent. This land is hellish to build in. It grows nothing. The water is hidden deep below the surface, but it pays me back in peace and tranquility. I love my home.

Comments:

Malati Marvin: Have you ever considered being a poet? (2:22 PM)

Svdas: Dear Malati, Part of what I am doing in these posts is experimenting with a new writing style. Usually I write in an academic style, now I am trying out a literary style. I am glad you like it. (8:34 PM)