Swirling around in the desert sky,
Where not even the ravens choose to fly.
Down off the mountains in a furious gale,
Darkening the desert sky so pale.
Sand, like needles cover all pores,
Bearing down relentlessly, with a terrible roar.
Turning miday into a dark stygian night,
Blurring out everything, killing all light.
Chasing all denizens far underground,
Terrifying all with a freight train sound.
From may to September, this is the norm,
One of a kind, the mojave sandstorm.
6/19/12 Alton Texas
Wonderful description of a mojave sandstorm, which I now have a far better chance to imagine. a great write Juan.
Again my friend I must compliment you on your keen vision within the magical desert-land! It makes me wish I was there, right now... you know.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wonderful description, a great write, pleased I`m not there.