The feather of a bird clings to the desert growth, struggling against the winds of oblivion. 

Most people don’t know that there is a desert in the center of Canada.  The Spirit Sands are a continual meditation.  I am reminded of how absurd it is to presuppose that evolution is an end product and not a process created on purpose.  If evolution is the end product… we are doomed.  I believe the correct word for what most people refer to is entropy. 

The desert reminds me that any footprints that I leave behind will be blown away, effortlessly, by the wind.  My ego wishes differently, but I am glad that my ego has about as much hope as the bird the above feather belonged to.   

To some, the cactus is no stranger.  For those of us who spend eight months covered in snow and freezing our asses off, the cactus is an anomaly.