Desert Afternoon...A Poem

The dove plunges its face in water sheen

nearly to its eyes, in four great gulps

as if to die, convulsively,

then jerks its head and flies through shade

and sun. The rock squirrel undulates,

sinuous as a snake, and cautious,

sneaks through weeds and new short grass

past sparrows in a shallow pool

-- like kids at play -- who flood

themselves, the light, the air with drops

their beating wings inspire. Then twitch

and preen, flutter, shake from them

the water, on a bobbing branch above...

...the silent afternoon...with wooing wind

in soft and distant song, and excavation

of curve-billed thrasher, potent, jabbing

at the earth in search of hidden treasure,

leaving holes like careless, driven miner

after paradise, and after gold.

Copyright by Don Gray