a man walks a thousand days

on hot sand and on the thousandth night comes rain. he cups his hands and catches the water. the clouds part against a black sky and the stars peer up at him from the water's shimmering surface, seeing their reflection in his eyes looking back. the water slips through his hands and into the sand, and on that spot he sleeps, deeply. morning comes in its own sweet time, rich and rested, silent and perfect, every color, every everything 5/7/2013