September 18, 2019

Desert Spirits Dance by Ken Allan Dronsfield

Some ride the plains when
the full moon is high.
A ghostly form upon their horse as
they go floating by.
When dark clouds gather and
rumbles of thunder are heard.
Lightning strikes the Superstition's
amongst screams of the thunderbird.
Spirit mules follow a path to the mines
lost on the trails in another time.
The face of old miners peer from rocks
and sultry shadows.
They hide their gold from claim jumpers
buried in a haunted hollow.
Tumbleweed races across plain and playa
rolling over bones of the lost or pariah.
Dancing in the light under stars and sky,
the reaper walks within a flock of magpies.
Riding o'er the plains when the moon is high.
Rise to inhale the break of dawn; jump at
the sting of a horse fly.







Ken Allan Dronsfield is a published poet. He has three poetry collections to date; 'The Cellaring', 'A Taint of Pity', and 'Zephyr's Whisper'. Ken does not have an MFA or Creative Writing Degree but, he once road a dirt bike on woodland trails from southern New Hampshire into Canada.

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