Saharan sky
a boundless sea of misty blue
devoid of white sails open to the breeze
or billowy clouds to carry ships
across your vast expanse.
Nothing to hide that fiery ball
that beats down on the plain
fifteen hours every day
scorching everything below to golden brown
as crackling spikes of burned out crops
support the weary tramp of men.

Saharan sky
when will the fleet arrive
and sail across an ocean churned
by winds that make the heavens cry
with tears to turn a deadened earth to green
and brighten all life forms
with seasons of full growth
to gladden every hopeful heart
by the largess of a harvest scene.