The Palm trees are motionless, standing at ease,
A still desert morning over the land.
All animal calls, and noises cease,
Not even a small breeze crosses the land.
Gone is winter, The Mojave sun now rules,
Even the wildlife make for the shade.
To await the evening, and a breeze that cools,
To await the night, as the day finally ends.
3/04/2016
29 Palms Ca,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem