An ode to Sand.

Can you say sandstorm? One might assume with a moniker like mine, I'd like sand. If so, one might assume wrong.


Sand is everywhere. In my eyes, in my ears, and in my mouth.
Sand is on my car, on my wife and in my house.
Sand in the air, sand on a chair,
In my socks and in my hair.
When the rains finally fall, all will turn to crud,
And then,
We will be buried in mud.