Pellegrino in the Desert

Seated outside by a giant umbrella tree for shade, the man watches bees and other assorted flying insects flit from leaf to upturned leaf, searching for the water of a night time dew. Each hover effortlessly from above, looking deep into leafy folds as other’s disappear inside their depth, only to reappear seconds later in search of more.

Near the man’s foot, movement; a Great Basin Skink with its bright blue tail, lizard movements, quick and cautious. It stops, one short dash and then another from rocky flower beds, reaffirming its place in the food chain, to the base of a wild Star Gazer, with spindly green leaves and splendid orange-yellow petals, perfect pitchers for the hidden moisture the tiny reptile desires.

Moving a quarter of a mile in little lizard length, he pauses before starting up the skinny stem of the flower, where glistening in the morning shine is that singular dew drop. Thirst refreshed, it darts to a nearby rust-colored rock, a hillock to one so diminutive in stature, to rest and bathe in the sky one’s glow.

To the corner of the man’s eye, floats a darting sight, a hummingbird on the wing. Its resplendent feathers resonate through the warming of the early hours, buzzing to and fro then gone; a magical trace only God can provide.

The man’s eyes return to the lizard and searches for one no longer there. Gone, warmed enough to seek out food before the dry earth becomes too unbearable to its diminutive touch.

Such is a morning time in the summer’s heat of oppressive breeze, dust and survival. The man must also retreat inside as a touch pellegrino awaits his drying taste buds.