Salty Canyon Caves

It was a silent move, felt as a gentle stir and pointed to the gate, a portal freshly mown and cured by brine that seeps at times in memory of awe. No guards looked on a breeze played lovingly with flaccid skin bestowing ripples to the blushing flesh, a swell, expanding now, preparing for events that make up sounds and forest smells surrounded by the heat exploding from within, a desert storm soon raged huge drops of yellow rain, the scent of phosphorus mixed with ammonia salts, and as the music fades away the welcome sight of froth, whitecaps of hope and connaissance, as lava oozes from within toward the flower's mouth a pouting pink, exposed in peristaltic waves of thirst and pent-up greed. The push comes from the flank, strategic moves by chance, new territory found and swept now free of mines and traps and conquered with a force that grew from humble roots, inside light shades of flax that looked like willow leaves. A bridge across the spring, eternally fed from the stony depth of secret salty canyon caves.