eyes closing for a moment
brings me to a wide river
flocked by gray pigeons
gliding on the still surface
the midsummer sun
burns my skin as i
sit on a rock that looked like
a broken tv set
i could hear the cricket's song
and the ants' march
beneath the tall grass
they are so noisy
i taste the air
and it's dry
dry like the tranquil winds of the sandstorm
i breathe
and the smell overwhelms me
the scent of flowerless pasture
killed recently by the harsh sunlight
but a mosquito bites my neck
and i'm back in front of my monitor
i have a lot of work to do
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