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Sonoran Harmony

Tags: poem

The desert speaks...

The desert speaks with buzzing flies
or other insects I can't name,
lamenting mates.

Or is it wind through creosote
and gentle moans of ocotillo flutes?
A limitless palette of sight and sound,
as restful shade hides in the burning rocks.

I wish the gentle quiet will pervade,
invade my bones and stay with me.
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