White Tank Hill

Heat beamed its wave

But we pushed on

Our bikes part of us

The hill conquerable

Its crest in clear view

Once at the top we knew

Cool seasons would flow

The trickle down effect

Of childish effort

But perspective

Is a trick of light

We reached the hilltop

Dusty, thirsty

Wary of the white tanks

Hulking like sentinels

On the rim of the town below

Their precious water within

A menacing reminder

Of our slim hold on survival

We traced their perimeter

Striking blistered metal skin

Hearing the solid tone

Of necessity

Bold and bulging

Knowing then

There was nowhere to go but down

Out from the shadow of the tanks

Reigning over a desert town

© shaun patrick green 2011