Lee Sides Lead

Dunes travel as they collapse
On the leeward side, the sand
Gradually piling too high

From the windward side that
Built them, originally
Maybe behind a bare rock.

But—whatever stubbornness
It was—whatever author—
Imperfection in the way—

It’s long gone now, back of dunes
That are their own obstacles,
Their own waves scalloping wind

Depositing gentle slopes
Progressing to an abrupt
Edge, silhouetted flying

Grains of sand spuming thin flags
Over the undercut bank
That will collapse, so dunes move.