As the puff tailed rabbit leaps from clover to grass, the gopher nips his share as the wind whistles past.

The mist settles down from the night sky above, and envelops the leaves like a cold winter glove.

Each droplet that hangs from the concertina wire, in bright yellow lights seems emblazoned, on fire.

Then somewhere above a small Bat flitters by, on his nightly patrol of the high desert sky.

Yet the Owl and the Hawk that fly in the night, know not of the man or his long lonely plight.

Behind a thick window he sits and he stares, hoping to lose a few fears and despairs.

Locked in a box made of concrete and glass, he watches the rabbit that nibbles the grass.

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