Travelers
spinning out over rolling hills
the grasping straw stretches long in the wind
and coyote works his mischief along the road
under gathering thunderheads
the antelope pace, twitch their modest tails,
and mutter,
tut-tut, looks like rain
how soon will we be home?
ask the grains of sand
shifting on their dunes
how soon?
the grasping straw stretches long in the wind
and coyote works his mischief along the road
under gathering thunderheads
the antelope pace, twitch their modest tails,
and mutter,
tut-tut, looks like rain
how soon will we be home?
ask the grains of sand
shifting on their dunes
how soon?
posted by MB at 7:28 AM
4 Comments:
Oh, that's magnificent! Wonderful poem.
That's what the sand was always saying! Makes so much sense now.
Thanks, you two.
A poem that seizes the imagination and gives it a good shake, yet quiet and peaceful as well. Thank you, moose.
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