poetry & things

Night desert

Walking this trail, all is strange

I am still round, attempting square pegs

the evening desert with its saguaro looking people, my friends

snakes, and the hissing heat of day they now crawl away

into the melting sea sky of orange, red

into the indigo rising, turning black

no sound of cities, no world out there to cry

only the calling of stars, like musical notes

songs twinkling in time with

the hot honey yellow moon.

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