Today my sky is not so clear,
There are thin wispy clouds aloft.
But the outcrops on the mountain appear very near,
Reminiscent Of a brainchild, of Syd and Marty Kroft.
There's thin vapor trails in the stratosphere,
Of jets flying to and from LA.
So incredibly high there's no sound to hear,
As they follow the curvature, and go their way.
There's Woody woodpecker on a telephone pole,
Hammering away for life so dear.
He must be working on his millionth hole,
I hope some bugs bring him good cheer.
And the creosote army has now found it's way,
Yellow banners flying everywhere.
One more beautiful desert day,
With these few words, I wish to share.
3/4/2016
29 Palms Ca.
Flying everywhere and, to respect nature. Thanks for sharing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful Juan, I love the way you see life! Peace pal.