Desert Dawn

From out the sand the fluted columns rise.
Here shattered plinths protect a lonely loon,
Whose eyes regard a sliver, skull-like moon,
With magics past the power of surmise.
The moon sinks quickly in serrated peaks,
While in the east the red-gold dawn is seen,
Revealing all this lost and stark demesne,
As light from that red dawn runs down in streaks.

The dawn now lights fantastic fallen piles,
As well the long forgotten peristyles.
Here white and sandy soil, trackless as the sea,
Shows where cracked stone bleaches in eternity.
Two silhouettes spring up where no one stands,
And ghostly lovers stroll across the sands.

Find more by Michael Fantina in the Author Index.

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