When the wind rises in the desert,
the sand presses in,
weighs on the contours of the land.
The day breaks down into grains.
The dogs have gone to look for you.
They return with strange bones.
Wherever you are now,
Do not lose your bones.
Use them to dig a shelter under the saguaro
before the sun peaks.
You can survive there in the shade
until the dogs, bored with the bones,
return to search the valley for what remains
when the dust has settled.
Well done Ron. Loved the conclusion to this. >KB
LikeLike
Thanks KB. I am still unable to write anything new so I am digging deep into my notebooks for poems I feel are worth sharing. I am on several medications that keep me in a fog or put me to sleep. It is very difficult to concentrate/focus my attention. The alternative to the meds is a constant searing pain in my leg. My docs are trying to figure out what is wrong but so far can only tell me what is not causing the pain.
LikeLike
The niracle of modern medicine. Hope you feel better soon. Smiles…>KB
LikeLike
Excellent Ron – well worth pulling out of your notebook.
Do so hope the docs find an answer to your leg.
Anna :o]
LikeLike
Thank you Anna
LikeLike
aww sorry to hear of your pain on all accounts ron…but thanks for the writes. love old notebooks xo.
LikeLike
Thnaks t.dot.Sometimes I have to cringe at some of the stuff I have written but every now and then I find a little poem tucked away on some yellowing paper.
LikeLike
love the bluegrass collection you’ve been sharing, Ron. saw a report that soon, yeast will make morphine. not that it’ll come soon enough for your leg… hope you get relief, soon, for both leg and then a clear mind ~
LikeLike
This is spare, powerful and affecting!
LikeLike