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Click hereThe desert speaks with buzzing flies
or other insects I can't name,
lamenting mates.
Or is it wind through creosote
and gentle moans of ocotillo flutes?
A limitless palette of sight and sound,
as restful shade hides in the burning rocks.
I wish the gentle quiet will pervade,
invade my bones and stay with me.
The original title of this poem was Sonoran Quietude. Feedback from poets I respect stimulated me to look for a different, perhaps better title, and here we are... This was in the "kill your darlings" vein. Yes, sometimes.
I stand corrected on my earlier comment, Mer. I didn't make the geographical connection with Sonoran and should have. It wouldn't be unfamiliar to a reader in your neck of the woods, so to speak. I do think, however, Angie makes a good point about Quietude.
I may have already said this to you, but your poem has a "Lake Isle of Innisfree" quality to it--the sense of a place where one finds peace. That is just a lovely sentiment to me.
Two nitpicks: 1) I agree with gm about the title but because I feel like "Quietude" projects too much info about what's coming. You could use something like "Afternoon" instead and then let the poem work its magic. And 2) maybe it's me but I think "moans" injects something that doesn't fit the poem--sorrow or passion. Something musical like "trills" or "pipings" might work better...
Just my opinions. Really enjoyed the read.
I can picture the color of burning rocks, and I absolutely love the final line. So good.
Loved the poem; title not so much , Mer.
S2 is incredibly powerful and effectively seguays to resolution in the final couplet; nice, tight, economical use of words.
2 infrequently used words juxtaposed together in the title, however, is a little like fingernails on a blackboard to me.