A field of almond trees like dendrites reaching towards their cessation balancing in the wind between grave site grape vines and wood chips. Dwarfed lakes snake between hills and valleys to die, river beds bake and cook under the arid sun and the cattle with their dirt–brown tillage sold to the east for hopes of water. And the woman! The woman sheds dusty tears that send lines of smut down her face. and she says not all of me. Not all of me.