The camel
The yellow sun beams down on the desert, over the keen camel. In oven-like heat, specialised nostrils close as a sandstorm builds up. The arising sandstorm shouts out like a howling dog. A striding walk leads it step by step into unknown territory, Occasional palm-tree; oasis. It’s large liquidy eyes swirl, while flicking eyelashes wipe the sand particles away. It’s sand-.dune like humps waggle as the camel swiftly glides along, Soft feet pad over windswept desert. Fleas leap like tiny springs on coarse camel hair, Ants swerve frantically in and out of microscopic nests, The camel merges into the distance. — Miriam Fewtrell, aged 12.
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Press, 30 November 1982, Page 18
Word Count
106The camel Press, 30 November 1982, Page 18
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