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Apr 2018
In the silent cold of the desert night
cacti share a lonely trance
they stretch their stubby, prickly arms
the glow incites this awkward dance

they rest their ship on a vacant dune
shield their eyes from brilliant glare
the light that burns from distant moon
is more than they can bear

they have come to plant their rabid seed
that will race across the desert plane
to hunt the sleepers on which they feed
the seed now sewn, they await the rain
oldie
Thomas P Owens Sr
Written by
Thomas P Owens Sr  M/New Market, Va
(M/New Market, Va)   
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