like the sagebrush of time.
Yet with all this thinking
wisdom is still elusive.
Thoughts become tangled in barbed wire fences
never intended for an open range.
Its grayish, green leaves
cast an aromatic fragrance through the still night air.
A cooking herb, once the home of the sage grouse -
The grouse having left no wiser for the nesting…
learned but no longer sage.
Now the small white flowers having fallen
– as all must.
Gray matter too is food for thought.
Sustenance of life,
essence of death.
is like embracing saguaro.
A prickly dilemma
is what mankind was designed for…
Or is it destined for?