The desert was dust, not sand, with a clear dusky sky and harsh square mountains silhouetted in the middle distance. There was a twisted suffering juniper over here. There was a dry wash wandering shallowly away over there. Every little rock stood completely still among the soft sneaking insects. The man with his back to the west stood completely still. His feet were set apart, planted in earnest, and his flapping coat slapped at his shins. His hands rested on his hips.
"Why are you here?"
"To serve my Lord."
"Why are you here in the desert?"
"I serve my Lord." The man's face was in shadow.
"He's not here. You're alone here."
"I have heard a voice crying in the desert, 'Make straight the way for the LORD'."
"But you do nothing."
"I await my Lord's command."
"Couldn't He command you wherever and whenever he wished?"
"He is Lord," said the standing man.
"Couldn't you wait for it anywhere you wanted?"
"I have heard a voice crying, 'In the desert make straight the way for the LORD'."
"But you aren't doing anything to make the way straight."
"I am waiting to do my Lord's bidding," said the man.
Christine, Dreaming