The Sky on Camelback
When the flaming sky sets over the mountains
And the earth lifts up her dusty skirts,
She is met by her damp nephew
And her sun.
Together in his valley they combine
To shower icy pebbles down upon
The sidewise concrete and glass Oreo cookies,
Or into the valley of the Scots.
Through these miraculous seemings
Devils waggle their sunburnt fork'd tails
In their mountain crook
And kick around a ball or two.
As the sky melts
The monk on camelback prays
For wisdom in the midst of prevalent superstitions.
From far flung distant places people come
Arriving in their gleaming yachts
That dock in the sky's harbor.
These folk always leave a portion of their selves here
Yet in return they go away radiant, healthy.
Now the sky is liquid gold
Dripping his midas fingers over all
Out of the dusty flames the immortal bird
Arises once more to rejoice in the molten light.
Through it all, again and again,
The tired old camel lies down
And watches the moon circle.
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Copyright © 1998 John B Cooke IV
House o' Poetry
Jack'n'Jim World