The desert wind blows forever,
Across the barren land.
Carving mountains and valleys,
With its mighty hand.
Seasons do not matter,
The wind is never planned.
It sifts the sand to a powder,
Dusting everything bland.
Catching widespread wing tips,
Lofting birds of prey.
Coloring the evening sky,
With a sunset ending day.
Wind shapes the beauty,
Of this desolate land.
As timeless as the character,
Of the shifting sand.
Copyright 2004 © Ronald W. Hull
5/2/04
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