The sand grouse drink what I leave behind.
They approach the water hole
After a night journey,
Their sides rumbling.
I resolved. They did.
We raced. Their wings fell limp
While I stood in front at ease
With my robe tucked up.
I turned away.
They tumbled to the rim,
Crops and gullets
Squeezing and pulsing.
As if their clatter
On both sides of the water hole
Were groups of men from caravans,
Letting themselves down,
Congregating from all sides
And taken in
Like droves of camels
At a wayside pool.
They gulped swiftly and passed on
At dawn
Like panic-stricken riders
From Uháza.
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