Desert Dweller

Blossoms flutter on ancient trees,
still capable of bearing fruit.

A black bird fully formed takes flight.
Some paths are more hazardous than others.

Select a wrong one, and the destination
grows farther with each wing beat.

Each detour, each obstacle, an opportunity.
The quest is its own reward.

Some words are old, their significance forgotten.
Bits are added to bits over spans of time.

Stories are imperfectly recalled,
flawed language shaping narratives.

In the end, we define ourselves by tales told,
pictures hung on kitchen walls.

©2026 Bruno Talerico
61/365.
Inspired by writing of Neal Stephenson.