bladed grass stabs the soil
daggers were never so gentle
nor so green
the shoot withers and is glad
to leave its kindness
in a barren furrow for us to lie in
earth rises
shrugs off the debris of a year
opens itself to germination
storm in the desert will settle
air return
sand blow smooth
peace among the dunes
will lay a shadowy morning sun
against heaven
shimmering green
will cloak the oases
© BH, 2025
From a longer poem that didn’t hang together, I salvaged three disparate pieces. This is the first. It seems to me a vignette of natural phenomena but I aimed for a little edge to creep in, at least to begin with, so we might escape it in the end.
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