Camel Ride

its hard to write a snappy poem while riding on a camels back and that is why this poet's hand now strays to write in padded feet and let his mind go back to when from rise to fall of sun we measured learning and achievements small by watching clock hands on relentless crawl time was what passed in your head unruled by nothing 'cept the rising sun whose burning passage east to west watches the shadows of the dunes grow longer until all is joined and desert shrinks in to the starry night and camp fire is the centre of creation and more new stars showered in to the sky where holding us in fascination is the dark and distant void surrounding and protecting us, just like a mother's womb.

© niall oconnor 2015