A spear of lightning stabs the night;
Lacy clouds shroud the mourning moon;
Tracks cross the dusty riverside;
The soundless pack moves through the gloom.
They traipse past symbols on a rock:
A promise broken ages past;
The sun awakens blister hot;
Their pace stays brisk, their eyes like glass.
They search for water off the trail—
Cool blue moment’s frolic unplanned;
Then onward, onward nose to tail,
An endless trek on stolen land.
~*~
Written for the Sunday Whirl Wordle 745 using the prompt words promise trail rock symbols moon spear shroud cross sun tracks stolen water.
I watch a YouTuber called "Sidetrack Adventures", all about the southwest desert areas (mostly CA/NV/AZ) plus a few other places. I lived in the desert for a while as a child so I love revisiting through his very interesting "tours". And many times, he shows trails passing by ancient petroglyphs, in landscape you wouldn't think anyone could thrive in, but they did. Your poem reminds me of that.
ReplyDeleteThanks Keera, it’s a bit different from my usual 🙂
ReplyDelete