the faint tatters of clouds slip behind dark mountains
the desert is cold
a woman stands wrapped in a shawl, her hair spills over her shoulders.

her bare feet clench the clay,
tangles of weeds rub against the hardened skin.

in the distance a faint baby's cry
stiffled by the wind.

a step
and another more quickly,
the moonlight flashes against the darting, slender legs.

the gusts picks up, swirling around her-
sand tears at her face and eyes

it begins in her breath,
slowly it becomes like the wind.
the soil bleeds into her veins.

fingers trace the brush, blending
the sky envelops her.