Our feet sank into the dry red earth as we moved around the rear of the low building.

He felt with his palms the dry earth, still warm from the day's sun.

For once he did not see the dry earth, cracked in long lightning lines.

There is nothing else but dry earth baked by the sun.

Moving to an area of bare, dry earth he knelt down.

He turned, cleared his head, and felt the cold, dry earth beneath him.

Just the tiny sounds of dry earth baking in the heat.

He sat up and began to sketch a quick map of the area in the dry earth.

He could smell the flowers and the dry earth beneath their feet.

Thought of the flowers she had grown in dry, dusty earth a long time ago.