[Nomads vanished in mirages gales were blowing through]
Nomads vanished in mirages gales were blowing through,
Whose shadows appear in fog the moon is glowing through.
Particles of debris whirl in the storm’s eye like swarms
Of insects, fly above streets torrents are flowing through.
Raindrops glow where sunlight flames in turning foliage
Of gust-ruffled groves the lark’s song is echoing through.
At sunrise desert rocks emit teal auras as mist
Forms dew in crevices blue poppies are growing through.
Gold urns melted in crucibles like the twilight hues
Of rivers Inca scouts, in canoes, were rowing through.