Martin’s Mud Map marks a majestic moment on the Moon Plain.

Spotting sparkling stars we sought saddled in a sand-fly steam engine.

Rocks rolled ragged roads railed with rambling reclusiveneess.

Sandals sank severely in swirling sand surrounded by a supernatural scene.

Wine was washed in the whimsical wind and we wished we were wayward wayfares.

Listening to lyrical lore loosened loud laughter.

Clouds clammered closely & cleverly created a crude curtain creeping conveniently close.

Hanging hair hurdles high-wards, hastily highjacking a humourous hymn.

Flying fingers flutter furiously.

Crackling crisply cuts trhough the cadence.

Thunder tolls tremendously towards us, trampling our tranquil trance.

Lightning lightd luminous clouds in a layered labyrinth.

Ethereal electric energy echoes in my ear, encroaching, etching into my innards.

Together we tumble turbulently towards the truck, trading trouble for treacherous travel.

Wind wails wildly wrestling our wagon in a wall of wrath.

Rain rails relentlessly, rushing like a raging river.

Tin tumbles towards us, twisting and turning like a tornado tangled in twine.

And suddenly…it stops.