Mesquite Dunes

Fingers of the sun press into
my closed eyelids
and I feel like tumbling
down the golden slopes
the taste of sand
already on my lips

But first we must climb in silence
except footsteps that sound
like a great beast breathing

I imagine we are giving CPR
to mother earth
stroking the bare dunes with our feet

But I hear only the feet of others
my own feet silenced in anticipation
of my will, tensioning muscles and joints

For we are the orchestra
the melody plays through us
We are lucky if we catch
                              a glimpse of its beauty