trespasser

I walk, head down, careful footing as I
study the terrain, the way the shadow
from the mountains cover the valley floor

the dry crevices, marked with
wildlife tracks, deep and desiccated
no monsoon to wash them away

no relief, no rain to fill these
empty washes, to water this
wilderness that lies dry, parched

the cloudless sky above hides nothing
except for the desert creatures
absent in the heat of the day

as I retrace my path, I step around a gila monster
sunning himself on a rock, his rock
reminding me where I am

I am a trespasser; this is all their’s
and their tracks and presence remind me
step carefully, move slowly, retreat

Poetry by M.J.B. is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.