Heat.
Heat.
I can feel the waves rising up from the earth. The sun is shining in the sky. I looked at it directly. I looked for a few seconds as if willing it to stop providing the heat. My bare feet brush against loose soil and small stones. The earth is cracked. As I look at the cracks, they slowly start resembling the wrinkles on my face; the cracks in my hands. I lean down to grab a handful. The ground is so dry I rise back with dirt under my finger nails. Dirt. How quickly we discard what is useful into something we do not care about. Fleeting... temporary.. but this heat..
Heat.
Heat.
My throat is parched. I looked over the field, shading my eyes against the shining sun. I squint to see the edges of my field. All I can see is the cracked ground - broken, parched, and thirsty. My sigh comes heavy. It comes hot.
