Oman’s Dunes

Winds blow in parabolic moan,
Nomadic sands turn red and brown,
Whistle past traps of tanned vegetation.

Accumulated grains of years
Tall, linear, starred, domes,
Dance to the full moon’s lullabies.

Camels and tribes in awe,
Flee these conch shells of time,
Into an empty quarter of love.

Structured, erected sand,
Harried, beaten around,
Now, a heap of unstructured mound.

Incarnations: an energized erg,
Cones, swords, a ridge, a sling,
The dust storm is gathering strong.


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