Tonight I saw the sand that traveled three thousand miles across the Atlantic.
The road weary plume illuminated by the full moon
So the beam turned from silver to gold
From milky to cafe con Latte.
The busty orb set against a grainy buff sky.
Not the clear crisp light that our full moons bring,
But an unfocused hazy glow.
The sun had set the same way.
It just looks like regular clouds, my husband said.
No it’s an unusual haze, a fuzzy blur of rays.
The way our talks have become of late.
This isn’t California, after all, where smoggy skies are the norm.
This a wind blown tropical peninsula where air pollution retreats to the Gulf
Or the seas
Amber skies are enigmatic
Saharan dust plumes a rare phenomenon
Whose golden spray, like an ecru pair of sheers just hung
Casts a yellow diamond hue
Over us all
