From the tips of his brow to the raw soles of his feet,
salty pools of sweat dripped from his sun-burnt skin.
In a distant and faint memory, he can smell the aquafresh
aroma of cool, crisp, refreshing water. At this harsh reverie
his coarse dry throat clenches for just a single drop.
The starting to over heat iron rod in his calloused hand
seemed hotter than before and slightly scalds his worn flesh.
A small breeze from the north casts little flecks of cooling liquid
metal debris into the confined air. Small bits nibble at his arms
and bare chest.
This breeze, like a little gift from the Gods, clothed his hot skin.
In that wonderous moment freedom felt more of a reality.