Cacti

You scrape a living in a harsh barren land, never ceasing the hope, that rain will finally come. Covered with spines, you brace, and wait out every storm, yet bearing fruit, just those few days of the year. You bring color to the desert, ever reaching to the heavens. Brushing off dismemberment, a new shoot where a severed limb once sprouted. Seemingly the giant of the wasteland, but often, merely a small potted plant. Knowing full well that the next day may very well be your last. The scorch of the noonday sun blazes down, drying, burning, razing to the ground, what has clung desperately to life. But still, the Cacti, endure...