Sand

Sand around my feet with every move I made.

Sand on sand.

Not quite like sandpaper- the abrasion wasn't quite that tearing.

But I sank in with every step, so it took a toll on my energy.

As I moved, I knew I had to take it slow, and

watch for scorpions, cacti, snakes and worst of all,

mirages. Yes, false hope was the most treacherous hazard.

More hazardous than poison and thorns. And sand everywhere-

the ground-down remains of mountains, reduced to millions of

barely visible bits of hard mineral.