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Black fire burned blanket dangles from clothesline in apocalyptic rural landscape. Nothing moves but the ravens sqwak in the faint & distant. Only dirt may you rest.  No leaves,  just bare, long & lonley branch. Smoke from a dust bowl depression paints patina memories along the airstream double wide. Wilted cactus raisin thorns prick. Skeletal remains multiply abacus. White from the bones is the only light reflection. The deep wind whispers finally. The only voice I've heard in years. I cry uncontrollably. I water the fragile roots of plants that fed me long ago. In there dehydrated state they turn to pulp & simply wash away. Life lost nourishment the heart no longer grows. Glass forms sharp over time. Sand. Hourglass, sundials. Time I can't measure anymore. The willow no longer weeps it plays violin. Harmonizing the tragedy. Shadows are my only friend here. The light plays tricks. Sinking , rising,  shifting. There are smells here. Mostly must & old smoke. Like a thrift store trunk. I can smell the memories. Hotdogs & grandpa , baseball at the park.  Falling off skateboards , having friends all around. No time for the past no time for the futue. Present. A gift I forget to open.