Gardening Methods

A vinyard erupts from the sand,
It’s skeletal,
A tangerine tree begs the sun,
The heat chaps it’s bark,
The sand collapses,
What was a dune is not,
But a dying clump of shriveled tree’s,
Offering up their fruit,
Begging for a clemency,

What was this long lost flora?
Alive ‘neath the sand,
That struggles to survive the heat,
And cries for Gods own hand,
She sits on the roots,
Of her phantasy,
This is the garden she came from,
Begging for a sip,
As the brown river stumbles by,
The golden dunes crash,
Onto the wonderful garden of Eden.