energy of the night
returns to the sun
like a trembling drunk
drying without a drink
I am humbled and
put in my place again,
some words can do that
without intention
staggering through the
desert, squinting eyes and
sweating brow, beating on
me, beating me down
lost oasis… lovely oasis…
bury me in the cooling
sands below, self-dug,
water trickling at my feet
(Image from inhabitat.com)
No comments:
Post a Comment