One foot touches crystals of sand.
The other foot kicks off into space.
Thoughts of flying spiral her.
Her heart, that small fisted muscle,
beats…thumping pumping.
Her throat burns red-blood wine.
Running her distance from nowhere
along the mantle of sandy dunes,
birds tease her from a dusty day,
chanting taunting songs.
The runner slows,
searching her traveled path
to the water where the lighthouse stands.
Circling above, diving birds mock.
Their fading songs drift to silence.