you stand
rock carved by wind storms
a solemn cathedral
with a thousand unlit candles-
i am sun-drunk pebble, awed-
~0~0~
the clouds drape hymns
over your moody terrain
rustic-low wind sighs
as you trace your fingers
along the barren sand dunes
i, raw with rain, bloom in response
Posted for D'verse Poets Pub - Sentiments of the Southwest, hosted by Mish ~ Thanks for the visit ~
