A single feather

A single feather, gray, torn
on the edges, faded of its life,
lays in the dust
as the wind joins the soil
to eddy and whirl
across the sullen landscape

and lift the feather
to tip toe on end to end
until it disappears

over the lost horizon.

ÿÿÿÿÿ

The desert of my soul
longs for the oasis of you
but the caravan has turned
to follow the morning star
as it sinks before the cruel blaze
of the ever-rising sun.

ÿÿÿÿÿ

If tears existed
the ocean could not hold
the agony of this soul
as it kneels to wash
the dust from your feet.