Windswept 


Desert sands, windswept   

by decades persistence,  

have engulfed me,  

sculpting anew 

the man I am now. 


Beneath the visible 

Milky Way, Western 

Screech Owl has sung 

her invitation song

into these wee hours, 

until the first break 


of dawn, when her 

golden eyes close, 

and the rising and falling 

of the notes that comprise 

her song, at last  

go silent.



(c)Paul Goldman July 2, 2022

[Photo NSP/Patrick Myers]

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