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Daybreak. Light steals across the sands,
showing them to any
watchers who might be near.
It reveals the strip of
green along the river's
course; the only sign of life
in this barren-seeming place.
The river makes life possible,
for animals, plants, even people,
if they use it well.
It is their life-blood.
The strip of life is narrow,
but striking in contrast
to the sands - an artery
or vein, and just as vital.
Was it always so here?
Did the people of the crumbling
ruins nearby hoard
their water so carefully?
Did they know that the river
is the stuff of life
itself?

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