It always takes time
to find her own stride
when she finally feels
space to be alone.
Four elements fill
the voids of voices.
Solitude billows
under the earth's
encouraging stomp.
The fire ants bite
at her unpolished ankles,
and the rusting dirt
burrows its way in
to her clothes and camp.
She grumbles against
the cracked limestone
and whipping weather.