Poetry: Desert Paint

Red dust clouds were billowing smoke screens.
Sounds of crashing hoofs.
Grit in eyes—I stare.
They’re coming.
Shrills bellow over plumes of dirt.
A shadow breaks through—then two more.
Then in one quick movement—halts in front of me.
Nostrils flared and snorting.
Again…I am red in the desert paint.
©Linda J. Wolff 2017 – http://www.urbanpoetry2017.com
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A poetic wordsmith by the mind and a passionate blogger by heart.
Reservoir for Wolff Poetry and mentor for youth writing groups. Life motto: Everything you seek is in the stillness of one’s mind. The place between seconds, whispering of a song between sound.

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