Don Gray
Art Essays, Art Criticism & Poems
Desert Afternoon...A PoemThe dove plunges its face in water sheen nearly to its eyes, in four great gulps as if to die, convulsively, then jerks its head and flies through shade and sun. The rock squirrel undulates, sinuous as a snake, and cautious, sneaks through weeds and new short grass past sparrows in a shallow pool -- like kids at play -- who flood themselves, the light, the air with drops their beating wings inspire. Then twitch and preen, flutter, shake from them the water, on a bobbing branch above... ...the silent afternoon...with wooing wind in soft and distant song, and excavation of curve-billed thrasher, potent, jabbing at the earth in search of hidden treasure, leaving holes like careless, driven miner after paradise, and after gold. Copyright by Don Gray
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