What’s Real, Though?

Raw Earth Ink

in the far reaches
in the arid desert of the soul/
a whipping wind rises and falls
moving grains of sand with little effort
hardly barren
there is life -though sparse-
which takes refuge

here or there
a lone cry rises in the ear of a desert fox kit
and suddenly
we know we aren’t so very alone
listen closely
and you hear the distant dry lightning
and the clacking of a beetles legs tapping
carapace and sand
carapace and sand

what you won’t hear are eagles wings
or a creek sloshing with salmon
or the wolves running down the caribou calf
either way
it’s barren yet lush
quiet solitude and teeming with life

neither will you hear
the sounds of specialized ringtones
nor gasoline-powered
nor a voice or the thump-thump-thump of bass
no hedge funds or secret meetings
high heels or whispered threats

watch//listen//and learn
there are lessons…

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