An arid easterly breeze rustles sleeping giants
who awaken sluggishly
afoot like terra cotta soldiers
“(yawn) Morning Bob…”
“…It’s evening Fred”
“Is that a new scent?”
“…Runs in the genes
humans use it to make essential oils.
Who’s on watch tonight?”
“Tony the new guy,
moved in thirty years ago.”
“Yeah I seen him once or twice…”
Bob fell back asleep
Fred felt the waning hours of sun
enter his veins and clear the lingering dust
blown from countries away.