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rather too short to be posting elsewhere here...
poem: Desert Concert
[ Copyright by Jim M. Pierce, 1998-2010. All Rights Reserved.]
The sounds of a Flamenco guitar echo down the canyon walls,
Castanets at the small cantina rattle and click,
a dancer's skirts swirls in the candle light.
A lone Texan sits there,
on the veranda,
in the dark of the star lit sky.
Strange it is,
to hear the old music,
on Nuevo Mars,
out by Wolf 359 !
The dim red sun has set,
stars and nebulae blaze in the night,
as the sounds of a Flamenco guitar drift down the canyon walls.
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