Feeling freer from up here, down I peer.
I start to respect my size.
If you’re there down low, you wouldn’t know where to go.
Above, nothing seems to minimize.
The whistling wind sings, folds its giant wings,
and places me on a dune.
Now I look up to see, on the mountains, so many of me.
Different patterns, all synchronized in tune.
For a while I sit staring, at the designs preparing
until the wind’s breath rises,
and with perfection, I get a different selection
of shapes and sizes.
Now I look around. I hear a dry, wispy sound.
To my right, they sit.
Dry, crackling grass, leaning over in a mass,
showing the sharp seed inside it.
To the wind I think, blow me before, in horror I sink.
Through the needlegrass I fly, still free.
I blow through the night, a pleasant sight,
for stars as far as I can see.
The sunrise has fired, but I am very tired
from the long journey I sleep,
on a blanket of golden sea, maybe meant for me.
Later though, I wake with a leap.
By my side is a puddle of drool, the size of a swimming pool,
and I see a hoof pass over my bed.
Camels at a steady pace, but to me, they’re in a race,
then one hits me, right on my head.....
In the black, just one of the pack,
millions surrounding me.
I’m buried so deep, from danger I keep,
I really want to see.
Wedged in tight, without a glimmer of light,
the desert again, feels small.
The muffled wind did sigh, from above I hear no cry.
Who could imagine that this would befall.
