Trespasser

I walk, head down, careful footing as I study the terrain, the way the shadow from the mountains cover the valley floor the dry wash beds, marked with wildlife tracks, deep and desiccated no monsoon to wash them away no relief, no rain to fill these empty washes, to water this wilderness that lies dry, parched the cloudless sky above hides nothing except for the desert creatures absent in the heat of the day as I retrace my path, I step around a gila monster sunning himself on a rock, his rock reminding me where I am I am a trespasser; this is all their’s and their tracks and presence remind me step carefully, move slowly, retreat