Feeling the wind brushing my face with wisps of long
hair, sun shining heatedly on my being, relaxing muscles
and easing tension.
Listening to birds chirping in near-by trees and the
stillness of the atmosphere as it silences me interiorly.
Skies blue in all directions, slight desert breezes
letting us know of their invisible existence.
Loving the peace-filled quiet serenity of this Arizona
desert city of Phoenix I sit here writing of it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
When you mention the desert, generally it doesn't sound serenity or coolness or tranquility in the back of the listener's mind. Nevertheless, your lovely poem wonderfully turns that notion up side down. You say desert too can inspire a poet to do some thing creative. Excellent write. I enjoyed reading.