Tuesday, October 11, 2005


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?


Blogger Dale said...

Oh, that's magnificent! Wonderful poem.

10/11/2005 9:47 AM  
Blogger zhoen said...

That's what the sand was always saying! Makes so much sense now.

10/11/2005 3:50 PM  
Blogger MB said...

Thanks, you two.

10/12/2005 8:27 AM  
Blogger Mary said...

A poem that seizes the imagination and gives it a good shake, yet quiet and peaceful as well. Thank you, moose.

10/12/2005 10:35 AM  

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