Monuments

Crystal the desert
Sands sifted in dry air
Sun flecked sparkling.
Wind plays out,
Whistling, weathering rock
Sculpting.
Sand blasts in desert storms.
Fine glass moulds, shapes,
Caresses, smooths.
Forged in the heat of the desert days
Cold of its night.
Making monuments to natures art.
Towers of pink and yellow
Watch over rock strewn plains
Waterless river beds
In silent serenity.

Copyright P H Brookes 2012

poem by Paul BrookesReport problemRelated quotes
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