Walking on the Moon

From the ferry leaving Le Meuret,
we could see them, far away.
In the distance,
Lowry lean shapes; tiny silhouettes
against an achingly blue sky.
They looked for all the world
as if they were a camel train;
a toy procession, crossing
the crescent of oasis-less moon.
Then, at gravity defiant mound,
as astronautic ants we climb.
Stand breath taken, seeing stars;
dizzy on the sand dust surface.
On our descent there were T shirts.
Shouting souvenirs. We've been there,
done that. We didn't get a T shirt.
The day we walked the biggest dune
on earth.