Thursday, December 29, 2011


The sand
The wind blowing
Sky is nearly pure blue
The heat beyond endurance
The air so dry it hurts
To open my eyes and look
To see the view
Before me
I am entranced by the ways
The sand blows
Despite it not being alive
It moves
In patterns
Without purpose
But beautiful
The sand thrives
Under the mastery
Of the wind
With delicate hands