Friday, November 20, 2015

desert words

Haphazard strands of cycles long complete
the warm living sea, now supports dead desert stones
precipitated iron now staining tiny hands,
fine orange particles part before curious fingers
wind shapes this the most, abrades against the stone
hard angles
Water, when there, sculpts soft corners
like careful hands,
bringing merry rivulets to the soon-cracked sand

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