The desert wind lashes impetuously.
To the seasoned desert traveler it is only expected,
The particular expression of this place,
My affection for these shifting sands flows with the shape of the dunes,
Timeless and strangely focused,
Despite the forces relentlessly shifting the look of the landscape,
The feel stays the same,
Only it takes more than just a careful eye to realize,
What the desert itself cannot put into words,
Few speak this iteration of the universal language,
They are bound as fellow keepers of the creosote secret,
Superstition abounds in this land of precious aridity.
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