a wisp of a haunted moon
forgotten by a frigid night
friendless, hanging out in an blue, uncompromising sky
a desert lake, a pool of impossibilities all gathered here in one spot
not even trees could find this water in this high, arid place
but migrating birds found it and they found something alive and tasty beneath opaque waves
while the trees may have lost their way, the lake is too salty for them any way
the bushy beards of summer grasses grow thick against the farthest shore
a black blister of a mountains strains upward into the blue sky
and in some places the salt is too much and the water has fled and the whole word is hard, white and crystalline
salt miners tilling the sterile earth into cones of salt
Tags: desert, desert magic, desert musings, free verse, morning musings, mountains, poem, poet, poetry, rock, salt
