I know the feel of desert sand,
Its grain upon my heel,
The sweetness that a cactus plant
Can carefully conceal;
The beating sun, the searing heat,
And then blessed relief,
Under the shade of rock or dune,
Reprieve, however brief.
The molten air turns into dust
And night can quickly fall,
Then bitter cold will settle in
To take the mantle shawl;
A place where moderation lies
In images and dreams,
Where one survives – if – only by
Adapting to extremes.
Like your writing very much . thanks for sharing.
One of the best things about Britain, as Bill Bryson puts it, is that we don’t really have any weather, by which he means nothing too extreme.
Our winters here are bitterly cold, our summers hot and dry and way too short, so that sounds like a nice change of pace to me.
I would argue Britain just has rain with occasional glimpses of other weather only half experienced π Great poem π
I prefer snow over rain. Rain is too dreary. We just get waaaaay too much snow up here sometimes.
I couldn’t cope with the cold brrrr
Nicely done Australian summer goes on far too long at times. Such a diverse country sometimes in the north the country is flooded with summer rain and in the south where I am we sometimes never see rain in the summer at all.. You don’t get stuck in the desert during the summer here or you are in trouble.. With floods in the north sometimes in the west there is fires. Bit like America I reckon. Loved the poem
Australia sounds like such a fascinating place. I hope to experience it one day. I’m not very familiar with American weather, assuming you mean The States, but I don’t live in an igloo either. π
I love that π
Many thanks! π