Sounds Of An Atmospheric Pressure Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Rolling across a desert wonderland, feeling its solitude as it captures whistles of lonely trains racing into mountains and valleys.

Tripping along cacti, hiding beneath palo verde trees, needing relief from the hot sun beating down upon us, needing water.

Looking about, finding one more canteen full, hoping that we can be rescued before it's all gone, stepping around this arid hot desert, coming to grips with a possible time of death that may or may not happen today.