In temperatures drier than dry,
cracked earth surrounded you
when I first approached.
You were painful to the unguarded touch.
And yet, ugly, circling fowl have perched themselves,
unhindered, on your tower.
Mountains of dusty rock in the distance
seem unreal to my vision.
A miraged reality.
How did you evolve in this sunburnt land?
You absorb soil that renders no life,
but what was created by evolution.
You’re thinned body holds its arms out
in comical fashions.
And yet, there’s no one else for miles
to see you miming man-kind.
So you stand there, waiting for the seasons to change.
Waiting for the life-giving nutrients that always come,
just when you feel you’re at an end.
The skies turn.
Gray, and natural.
The burning yellow light is replaced
with flashes of white fire, and echoed cacophony.
Wet patter sounds at your base,
and soon you’ll evolve, too.
You’ll grow fat and thick
from trickles of moisture.
And when the land is blanketed
thin with icy white,
you’ll drink that in, too.
Gorging yourself on what won’t return,
until you are once again at your thirstiest.
Unnaturally natural blooms emerged from you,
when the sun came out.
Opening their petals to the light, absorbing its power,
and dressed you in an Easter fashion.
But when twilight’s brilliant firmament hung from the heavens,
your decoration huddled closed, saying goodnight, and goodbye.
Refusing to reveal itself again until a year had passed,
leaving you alone and naked once more,
to the morning sun’s heat.
Small, colorful raptors flew for miles,
stopping to suckle your fattened body.
They drank their fill, caring not for your own survival,
before resuming their journeys.
You are their rest-stop in this barren land.
But you don’t complain,
because you continue to exist.
Even after the sun melts you,
and rots your decoration.