November 5 Poem

There is something about sleeping on the flat desert floor,

just scrubby sagebrush, rocks, and thorns around,

and a big, wide open sky.

A crescent moon

shone between the clouds,

and a few raindrops pattered down,

but the parched earth extinguished them

before they could even settle into droplets.

The silence was big, even just a mile or two from the city.

A jackrabbit flashed his tail and coyotes yipped in the next valley over.

As I lay looking up at the stars, the desert took me in,

enveloped me, and the rest of the world seemed far away.

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