Tuesday, October 22, 2013

The Dusted Oaks

Dust on the roads of the American West
Parched earth and air in hazy sunsets
Soil and seeds long to be quenched
To drive away drought that's been here since

Dry October lingering on
Dust to mouth until the dawn
Dream of days that're now long gone
Return once more to sing a song

It'll be here soon enough
Until then to show how tough
Chaps the hide leathers too rough
These blue skies show winter's bluff

Oaks on hills driven to their brink
Early signs their time's extinct
To quag in mires among the stink
Their heads hung low, their hearts did sink

The dust weighs heavy in its place
The haze that rises into space
From the depths of wallows and the wastes
To fall back down as if from grace

For in every little stir the dust does blow
Softly dancing spreads to and fro
It lives on and continues to grow
When the end only heavens will know

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