A dark seed, <br />Floating, it seems <br />On a hot desert wind <br />Silent. <br />Falling to the ground <br />There to bloom <br />In searing yellow <br />Shot through with carmine <br />And veins of a darker hue. <br />Beauty in the midst <br />Of austerity. <br />The observer is taken <br />By the spectacle <br />And smiles. <br />'Zero, this is Tango Three Zero, <br />Target destroyed. Over.' <br />'Roger, Tango Three Zero, <br />Return to base. Out.' <br />' Roger, ETA one hour. Out.' <br />Smoke follows the blooms. <br />Letters to families <br />Will follow the smoke.<br /><br />Martin O'Neill<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/desert-blooms/
