Glorious moonshine

Before every big transition there is a strange lull.
where in the yellow desert the hot wind rises and sings a song never before heard.
a new tune each time to curl around the changing dunes.

when hope is fierce like the scorching sun.
and little grains of memories flow
as if they have places to go.


when that first step is over with.
and the brown ankle firm.
I know the wind will simmer down.
the heat will accept defeat.
glory of days gone by will shine.
and I will reap the benefits of my past.