Winds that once blew free,
now scatters dust to the sky.
~ lyrics from The Cowboy, by Randy Newman
Wandering, I am lost.
I speed along the washboard dirt road, skimming its ridges,
Don’t jar me, bumping along dips and rises.
Earth so dry, wild and unsettled winds sweep orange dust into roiling vortexes,
chase tumbleweeds across the grasslands.
Hello, tumbleweeds, caught in the barbs and fence lines,
impaled on gnarled mesquite.
Globes of sun-bleached gold, you can no longer travel on wind’s breath,
whipping forces crumble your desiccated skeletons.
Tumbleweeds, no more wandering and skittering across this land.
I know how it feels to be trapped, too, unable to roll away.
Ominous clouds, they are possibility.
Desert rain is never a promise, yet
when seeds swell with moisture, they open.
Bo Mackison is a photographer and owner of Seeded Earth Studio LLC. She is exploring creative photography and emotion in a series called Desert Lines – a combination of visual lines and written lines.