Desert’s Ironclad Finger

Beneath cracked soil, a green spine bends—

a broken finger that defends.

Its mottled spikes reach, dry and slow,

against neglect’s unyielding blow.

Sunlight cracks the brittle dust,

a stubborn pulse that won’t combust.

No water comes, no tender hand,

just survival carved in arid land.

A lone defiance, sharp and small,

a fortress built to outlast all.