By D. DiFrancesco
Pale blue cloudless skies
God’s of granite rise to meet it
Hawks and buzzards scream their cries
Parched and cracking earth crumbles bit by bit.
Yet life does thrive in this barren wasteland
Angry flora and fauna its solemn masters
Brown and tan the palette at hand
Landscape the pupil, sun the headmaster.
Cliff dwellings and hieroglyphs call home this domain
Once proud inhabitants have faded and gone
Arachnids and echoes are all that remain
Of an era that is all but bygone.
Still man insists on taming the unattainable
Its lifeblood rerouted and dammed
For cities and towns, its inhabitants expendable
The resultant effects unplanned.
Yet with all the scrub and cactus and scorpion
Its peace and beauty abound
The mountains and valleys elicit euphoria
No greater gift can be found.
Try as we might to alter its reality
The eagle keeps watch over this land
Man and machine try to prove natures frailty
But nature does refuse their demand.
As the celestial heat wave succumbs to twilight
Nocturnal denizens hiss and bay
Under constellations hunters commence the fight
For the strong to live another day.
With each days pass the circle unbroken
The animal and land meld into one
Of mountains and desert, lore has been spoken
In God’s own will be done.