PPC 4

The Playa - Week 47

The wind stirs little in this desolation.
Even the ghosts of those
who once made this their habitation
barely whisper between the stones.

Silent are the limestone tufa,
once alive with vegetation.
Stern statues, the only proof of
an ancient shoreline and its evaporation.

A tiny hand waves an eagle’s feather.
Sneakers skip over the cracked basin.
Her footsteps’ rhythm a haunting measure,
of life on the playa now in desiccation


Written for "Promptly Poetry Challenge (2025-2026)" 

Week 47

Prompt - an image of a child in sneakers running on a dry lake bed, waving a feather