Across the desert it rolls and bounces, propelled by the invisible wind whistling over the desolate dry sand. A hollowed nest of brush and yellowed straw carried miles and miles, building mass and shape as it tumbles along, narrowly escaping the ornery cactus with its long nails drawn. No free hugs from this guy. He doesn’t like to be touched.
The tumbleweed shrugs and continues on toward the red rock fortress sprawled across the distant horizon. A shimmering basin pools around its rim. The weed isn’t fooled by the mirage. There are no pools of water in the valley where rain does not fall but one week every year. And then the earth sucks the moisture from the clouds before one drop has splashed on the cracked ground.
Wind gusts and gentle breezes nourish the tumbleweed and give it strength to travel days at a time with little rest. Under the watchful eye of the moon, it will slow and gaze at millions of faraway lights strung across the pitch-black sky. When the moon is full and coyotes howl their mournful blues, the tumbleweed’s browned muscles glow silver as it basks in the solemn peace of night.
Res, weary one, for tomorrow’s journey is long and fruitless. There will be numerous days before you bow at the great castle’s sun-burnt feet. And what then? Will your adventure across the desert reach its end?
Hardly so. For as long as the gods blow hot and cool breaths across the land, there will be an odyssey for the tumbleweed to run.
– Written by Miss A