The wind rattles a can across the sparse ground,
no birds sing, there are no trees.
A merciless sky arches above.
Empty above, barren below
Sand blows in eddies and gusts
down the sad dry riverbed.
Pointless and dull,
the eye sees nothing,
no colour, no life,
just heat and quiet,
and an ugly introduced sound:
metal on rock.
What have we wrought?
© Jennifer Phillips (All rights reserved)
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| Image © Jennifer Phillips |
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