Nomads
They have herds of sheep and goats
They pick dates; they grind oats
In the desert they always dwell
In the oasis they drink from a well
It’s hot, it’s humid, and it’s sandy
Scarf and turban may be handy
They see owl, they hear howl
And foxes for rabbits prowl
While in tents they sleep at night
In that God-forsaken blight
In the desert the dwell together
Tribes of survivors wandering forever.
Copyright © Moose Bak | Year Posted 2007
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