The desert flood Who would not have loved the fresh, The sweet smell of moist mud? The bold patches are washed away but the freshly rained sand, soon is gone, Swirls taking sides, sweeping the sands in a raining flood, Forming furrows, flowing Small dunes of porous bed of sand Dividing the fluff of a sea, Away from a caking piece of mainland, The wild grass grown tall, Stands proud as a peacock head, Holding its feet in the roots, Raised up from a rained, a newly river(ed) bed, read on...
Posted on: Sun, 08 Sep 2013 17:13:44 +0000
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