Paradise?

Brown peaked roofs
wayward traveler's heads
weary loaded
rest at peace.
Air, hot as breath on your neck
whet with summers heat.
Clinging beads shroud your skin
a dew covered meadow of flesh.
Land of color
Land of life
Red dust between your toes.
Blood pulsing
Drumming in your ears.
The sky afire
rithing horizon
Every creature genuflecting
the suns slow death.
A choir of voices shouting
proving their exhistance.
But tonight I sit on this step,
dead wood beneith me
and find I have no voice to join them.