Sand
an aging lighthouse
stands sand blasted and buried
by the walking dunes
–
frigid winds-
the predawn
desert frost
an aging lighthouse
stands sand blasted and buried
by the walking dunes
–
frigid winds-
the predawn
desert frost
a glowering moon-
the creak of a rocking chair
in an empty house
–
moonlit shadows-
your hand
pale in mine
high flying embers
remnants of a prior life
slowly turn to ash
–
distant thunder-
lightning strikes
a joshua tree
in a basement bar
the windows dirty with time
drinking my coffee
–
sheets of rain-
a community
of strangers
reeds and rushes-
a warm tide ebbs from the marsh
and runs to the sea
–
sea glass-
walking the beach
at low tide
as my eyesight fades
I think I finally see
my destination
–
a grey heron-
motionless in the
standing water
staring at the floor
scuffed and worn beneath my seat
from those in my shoes
–
dawn breaks-
outside the
waiting room
a quick glimpse into
the recesses of my soul
is all I can bear
–
sinister clouds-
reflections of
black water
families asunder-
buzzards circling high above
the southwest desert
–
riding the smoke-
wild horses
in the distance
doe-eyed sycophants-
suckling at the teat of
this festering pig
–
overcast-
the lack of sunlight
goes unnoticed