The stone path is dry, the field empty,
Distant rain clings in the sky.
The clouds take away what we see:
The sun underneath lights the joshua trees,
The creosote flails in the breeze.
The silence takes all that we hear:
Old ladies chuckle away the years,
Laborers share laughs, hiding tears.
The sun takes away what we touch:
Earth's forms dissolve in light and dust,
A burned-out building hangs like a crutch.
Ah but as the rain brings in the scent
The bitter sweetness recalls the misspent,
What was almost forgot: what we meant.
