Cactus with the Dazed Gaze

A prickly pear beside the road
looked startled by the rain.
I asked it for a shorter route.
It pointed down the plain.

“How long?” I asked. It said no word.
A quail ran through the brush.
I took the hint, sat in its shade,
and let the hurry hush.

The long way led me home by dusk.
My boots were red with clay.
The cactus kept its dazed expression.
I had changed, anyway.