Boots of Victory

Worn tired boots
Troop through an outstretched winding road.
Strolling through razor sharp thorns.
Blowing tumbleweed smash into them.
The leather droops in exhaustion.
Lost luck luster long ago.
Discolored from the beaming desert sun.
Insoles melted from scorching sweat.
It’s a dangerous barren road with Saguaro cactus—and scattered carcasses.
Poisonous rattlesnakes and hairy giant tarantulas tardy across the road.
Laggard and heavy are the advancing steps.
Attentive vultures hover above the sky.
Sound hisses from lucent scorpions—feeble throbbing is heard from the fatigued boots.
Vigorous thud under the rubber rattle the wilderness.
Distress from the journey is agonizing.
Pack of coyotes panting scoff.
In the somber night, wolves howl in empathy.
The teary man in boots slumps in accomplishing the dragging and afflicting mission.
Jovial white doves manifest.
A mass of vivid butterflies parade the desert.
He soared his hands to the sky and blessed the God of Heaven in a resounding speech for the victory.
The dark perilous desert turned into a blooming country of fragrant flowers.
Doves and butterflies scuttled to the triumphant man’s head to form an incandescent crown.