Trudging up the sun-scorched peak,
Then down its craggy side,
A fiery orb blazed down on me.
From this hell, I could not hide.
My throat was parched, my body, seared,
It was time for me to die.
For the bottle in my knapsack,
Long ago, had been sucked dry.
I dwelt upon my one true love,
And longed for her embrace.
Through a veil of steamy tears,
I saw her smiling face.
But what came next, with certainty,
I cannot truly say.
For my mind could not be trusted
On that scorching summer day.
A bluebird eyed me from above,
And alighted at my feet.
It spoke to me, three sacred words,
Then vanished in the heat.
My withered soul was soon revived,
And I left that horrid place.
Now, when I dream of bluebirds,
I see my lover’s face.
© 2008 by Eric D. Greene