Let me be this ostrich,
head in the warm sand;
don’t force me to look -
moan with sameness;
misshapen apparitions
etched on each eye.
There is a cosmos of joy
‘neath the dunes!
Brilliantly clear creation,
ever fresh, ever new -
stars, planets, pulses;
a more veracious view.
Written
March 19, 2003
Dunes
