A world of splendor: Writing the desert dream

If I could paint the sky, would it be as serene? If I could sculpt the rocks, would they be as robust? If I could write the scene, would it be as brilliant? The desert has a stark, commanding beauty; on the surface it appears bleak and forlorn and cruel. What could grow from this soil? What could survive beneath this sun?

When I delve into this isolated environment, I see life all around me. Plants shoot forth from the sandy soil as the birds flit from shrub to shrub. Leaves send out a cautious cluster, while flowers must wait their turn. Sensing danger, a lizard scurries underground as butterflies beat gracefully overhead.

It is a harsh climate. When the skies refuse to open, a lack of rain leads to hibernation. Vegetation reserves its stores for the days ahead, while the animals move quietly through their routines. Resilience, though, is all around. Harsh life, yes. Complex life, yes. But life, no matter how bleak, carries forth with determination. Rain will come again, and when it does, the desert, she will sing.  

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