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by Ed Bennett

A cool wind rustles the creosote.
The sundown shadows stretch the rock scape
where Joshua trees dance with anticipation
before a truculent moon.

This was the night an age ago
surrounding with nocturnal creatures
scurrying beneath the sky diamonds
you beheld and pronounced beautiful.

But you were the only beauty to these eyes,
a gem against the purple velvet twilight,
rarer than a rain blessing here
in the unforgiving Mojave evening.

Would that I be ageless as this desert or
a windblown dust devil's transient dervish dance,
or just a memory of your tranquil touch
forever in the amber of the timeless sand.


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