A lake of crystals slumps into the earth before me,
Serpentine ripples dance along the watery film and glide over the heaps of sand,
It washes the ground in dilute blues.

A tired thirst doubts the sight,
Sounding out a quiet flutter of wings that ascends into a pulsing murmuration,
A quick wave of the hands and the water turns to vapour,
And the mirage recedes.