A man could almost fall in love
With this sun-dyed black-gold place
Could go for arid mile on mile
And never see God’s face
And thus avoid disgrace.
A man could drift and wander
Change his shape like blood-red dunes
Pour his freedom out like water
And his faith like feckless spume.
After all, there’s ample room.
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For Jonathon’s bio and links to other poems he’s published on WIZ, go here.
Wilderness Interface Zone 
Anyone ever tell you you have a dry wit, Jonathon?
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All the time. It’s become an accusation. 🙂
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Not enough wit to see your pun, however, until two days ago. Ay caramba. More dry than wit, I guess, in Shakespearean mode.
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That’s ok. ‘Twas just a little xeric pun fun.
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