Angels Wait
Sun shines
Guitar music floats through
Open door
An old man is dying
The family is waiting
Fans whir
To blow away summer’s heat
Clouds like cotton in the South
Picked and stacked
Waiting
Scan the sky
Hope for rain
Notes played on guitar
Fall upon the floor
In scattered patterns
Waiting
Angels float overhead
In the morning
The old man will be dead
Until then they hold their breath
Waiting
A River of Stones/ One daily observation = one stone.
Russian sage in high mountain desert. Loves hot summer sun. Bees love to buzz the blossoms.
Poets Asides prompt #141 Empty
Desert Landscape
Landscape not empty
But austere
Like love
Not lush
But lean in
Its’ beauty
Like a line drawn on the floor
Start to finish
Nothing more
Nothing wasted
A singe purpose
A desert bare
annellannell 
Love the photo of the Russian Sage. It’s starkly beautiful somehow and really like the image of bees buzzing around it.
Elizabeth
The first is beautiful in it’s measured look at the normalcy of death, and beneath the sorrow, continuity is all around us, as the second talks about what endures.(That first stanza is perfect, and it keeps that tightness to a strong close)
I’ve traveled all over our country; there are few spots that can compare to the mountains and deserts of new Mexico. Lovely photos(as always) also.