A Survivor

Sage brush clings to the shallow earth a swirl of roots a branches twisted by some unseen hand. Tiny blue gray leaves with leather skin are the only hallmark of life on the plant. It sits hardly moving in the light breeze. An existence of struggle fought against the wind and the lack of water and rich soil. Leafless breaches represent more hopeful times and a failed investment. Drinking up the sun the small brush pushes its roots deep, long fingers finding strength in the immovable mountain. These labors will be the ones that ensure a longer life than the lizards or spiders that borrow its shade. The animals need the help of the brush and help is willingly given. After all they will soon pass on but like the mountain the small sage brush will remain, a survivor.