Steamy, humid heat
Unrelenting sun.
The walls, sheer height above us
Contrasted, as always
In the deserts beauteous array
Of reds, of white, of blues.
Neverending, or so it seems,
The chasm’s endless trail.
Ghost gums, dried from lack of rain
Lean their branches inward
Attempts to bar our way.
Palms and cycads contrast
With the ancient gums,
Providing relief to the eye along the chasm floor.
The flies, the flies,
The cursed flies
Try to carry us away
Veiled fight our weapon
Against their endless onslaught.
We travel on.

Tim Alderman
(C) 2001