Somewhere near
missiles are exploding on
a testing ground west
of where I sit.

That's not to say
it is happening at this very
moment, because I can neither hear
nor see the experiments

from the white dune
upon which I'm perched.
Only a December wind,
icy as the pressing mountains,

fills my ears,
and as for my eyes,
a playful sun occupies them,
teasing the perfect

picture I want to capture.
Sitting on this sandy, carved
marvel, I find complete
peace and harmony.

Not a soul disturbs the horizon.
It's purity is heighten by
a year that's ending and beginning.
What a circle to behold.


(c) 2013 by Vincent Lowry