Sands

Stagnant by the tree
the water's poise,
Sitting in a desert
smoking dry leaves
asleep before their fall

A moon of this world
not known to man
flickering and flying,

Counting stars to be less,
from below empty pales
The thirst of a dog
the blackness of the blind.

Beside the umbra
of the glowing tree
Dry sands,with little
feet,blowing away
with infernal winds