Desert Quiet

The high desert is quiet
minus the beat of your lungs
and the gasp of your heart
and that undeniable eardrum pounding
punctuated by
the throaty gulp
of a raven call.

The high desert is quiet
as it must be,
here in the vestige of winter
biding its time.

This is the quiet
of wait
of respite
of soon-to-be.

The landscape waits
and I sit with it
and wonder
if juniper trees
shiver with cold.

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