Watching the desert

The sands of the desert are calm and quiet.
A snake makes himself into a pen
and draws the longest letter I have ever seen.

The lizards push against the rocks
up and down, up and down –
inmates of Hell’s own fitness spa.

The gila monster is still where I last saw him.
And above it all, the cactus, centuries old –
  Old Man of the Desert –
yet an infant of the sands and rock.

And me, with my pen.
What can I say?
I am always thirsty.