Desert Holiday – 17

Driving hard, I'm tensed and grave
up this piling crest of sand
so tiny on the back of a  great, sandy wave

it's like the outer curve of a cave
the sky above is blue and grand
driving hard, I'm tensed and grave

the engine revs, the wheels behave
up to the edge, dune's rib at hand
so tiny on the back of a great, sandy wave.

As we breach that yellow-blue stave
I'm blind to all but the sky's blue band
Driving hard, I'm tensed and grave

Perched like a dolphin on the tip of a wave
waiting, still blind, to see the lay of the land
so tiny on the back of a great sandy wave.

And then we plunge, bucking and brave
down the front of the great yellow cave
Driving hard, I'm tensed and grave
so tiny on the back of a great sandy wave.

Written for dVerse – Edges and Fringes

27 thoughts on “Desert Holiday – 17

  1. My son-in-law came down one of those rogue waves head-first into the ocean bottom and came up floating face-down and paralyzed. Fortunately, his son was nearby, and turned him over. He was hospitalized for some time, but the paralysis was not permanent. No more wave surfing in Hawaii, however! Your poem brought it all back to mind.

    Liked by 1 person

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