Oh homage to the scorpion, you
Prickly and crustaceous, like a bright and white, pearly sun
Curling up.
This slender, scurrying across the sand, His sap
as sweet ambrosia.
To feast upon his own poison, bathing
in the harsh light of the desert, relishing its drying power.
Hidden in the sand between the stones
Gathering up ancestral sorrow, drinking
from the rocks and bones.
He feels a mournful water rising
Where brightly colored flowers bloom.
When all is hot and still, the root functions as invocation.
A distant song arising.
They sing to us, they whisper flowers.