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DESERT DIARIES
Soothing breeze casts its stories
Of voices afar
Summer homestead gatherings
Watched by each distant star
Starved mosquitoes sing savage
Their chorus of night
In a segregated shelter
Around a lantern's dim light
Lazy lapping brown rivers
Dated bottles, mud hidden
Breathe of past pioneers
As a murmuring midden
Ever vast burnt horizons
Where tainted quail run
Leaves its diaries to dust
The bone sucking sun
Dead settlers lay dreaming
Graves sigh in the grass
Wherein four lonely headstones
Crumble lives long since past
Sleepy skies yawn existence
Amidst dusks bruising light
A campfires ghostly laughter
Come wind whispering night. |
