Desert

Nothing endures.
Even bone sculptures become howling
and dust. Oceans hold eons-old pirate gold

but no one mines the treasures of arid seas
until the rains come. Till husks from holds
break open, flint and swords, blood and flesh,

rusty plugs and oar-locks. Until bundles of hooks
on snapped lines reach for soil and light.
Coyotes cowered while gopher preachers

bucketed out flooded pulpits. All we needed
was salt-smell and hope, a molecule or two
of what binds sand and light.

……………………………….We missed
one thing, just, from becoming a prairie
………………………………………………..full of life.

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Author:

A day is not done, until it's filled with words.

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