PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

The Cessna glides low over the desert scrub. Whoever they were looking for would be hiding from the sound they were making. Besides it was only 7am and already 95 degrees out. If the guy had any sense at all he'd be lying in the shade somewhere waiting for nightfall. Not a flicker of movement but a few scared jackrabbits and one lone coyote. "Wait, I see someone - over there - bank left." A thin woman stands next to a solar panel mounted on a rack, little white dog at her feet. She wears a lavender dress, has long wild hair exactly the same color as the dress. Holding her hand over her eyes to shield them from the bright morning light, she doesn't appear to be in distress, not signaling frantically with her arms. The plane flies lower, directly over her, close enough to see her smile sweetly and wave modestly, almost like a beauty queen on a float in a Thanksgiving Day parade. Looking back at her, she had lowered both hands, went about her morning ritual turning the panels to face the Sun.