Desert - Poem by Matthew Moser
In early morning light, temperatures starts to rise,
On raven wings, I dreamed I could fly,
Summers heat making the image wave,
Over land that workers spent their life to pave.
Not a single thing remained green,
No place to rest, no songs to sing,
Watching the heat ripple and writhe,
I felt the ground so far below was as a tide.
I searched farther to find my rest,
And I looked so far and wide,
Only thing moving in emptiness,
Was the waving earth tide.
Comments about Desert by Matthew Moser
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.