Water in a Dry Land

A mental landscape of shifting sand dunes. an intimation that something may be worth writing, A scrabbling creature crawls bedraggled out from a saturated darkness. A Scarab beetles shadow takes hesitant form. Watch as words ripple above infertile ground, see how serpentine they flow. Yet another poem about Creation is arriving. Adam is sewing pants out of banana leaf's for Eve. The young man is jealously aware, that the googly-eyed monkeys are eyeing her nubile libido. Early days in the Garden; Eve is making mud cakes, they have yet to figure out how to eat manna. The scarab beetle, has resorted to scratching hieroglyphics, for words alone are no going to complete, this arid revelation. Something may be worth, transcribing - maybe. Perhaps this envisioning will find fresh water in a dry place. The white page has a blank face for a reason.