Desert escape

How nice it would be to run. Far and fast, away. In lush green fields or desert mountains. To breath in the freshest air. Taste rain on your tongue. The smells of moist Earth, of tall grass, of creosote bush, so rustic, like fuel, but fresher. No one is around except the rapping footsteps of animals, birds humming, sweet music. The quiet is serene and forgiving. No noisy mouths to question or judge, to ask and ask again. You're so tired. You could rest now, on the soft green, under the palo verde, awaiting, for nothing.