Red Earth
The sun scorches, burnishing the ground with its heat; red earth sings, a cradled memory. Cracks spread, a symphony of longing, bound to the pulse of seasons. Every grain, every breath holds history, during the silence of noon.
- AR Ammons
Red Earth
The sun scorches, burnishing the ground with its heat; red earth sings, a cradled memory. Cracks spread, a symphony of longing, bound to the pulse of seasons. Every grain, every breath holds history, during the silence of noon.