Such blinding, glancing light the sand grains refract, see through the shimmering air the ancient hills purple and white in God's heat, he heats up the land, uses the anvil and the hammer to contour it, the rain to cool, and we no less tempered by his steel, his long plan born long before we began and long after, cower in the shadow of white walls shielding our thin skins from a light that crumbles and sears all our works and days.next poem