THE SHELL FOUND ON THE DESERT FLOOR
Far from the surf – a lacy edge – pink within
The one that called this shell home
Is nowhere in sight
The shell has lain in limbo
For at least one thousand years
Waiting for the next wave
To come ashore
Images of great butts
Mountains and mesas
Homes carved into
Canyon walls
Pit-houses into hills
Provide a safe place to play
The sky an open space
Clear blue
Clouds form abstractions
Three hundred sixty degrees
Thunder rattles…
Death rattles…
The snake rattles
As she slithers under rocks
Safe from the sizzling sun
Fresh white sheets
Folded into neat piles
The edges as sharp as blades
The ring she wears
Sparkles in the setting sun
Hot winds blow
You gasp for breath
The wind chimes sound
Dust devils form
The desert can be a bitter pill
June 24, 2018
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