Sonora: the Desert

Harsh sunlight beats upon the thirsty land And glares upon the limestone cliffs and sand, While waves of heat rise shimmering, above The parched loam where the great saguaros stand. And perched up high among the spines thereof There broods in camouflage a mother dove, Whose eggs lie hidden by her breast, her nest A knitted niche of neatly-knotted love. Along the desiccated ground, impressed By tiny running feet, crisscrossing lest A predator should see, a rodent’s track Evinces its unending hungry quest. Concealed among the stones of brown and black, Its body hidden stretched along a crack And waiting, watching for unwary prey, There lurks a waiting, patient diamondback. Ephedra, sage and creosote all stray Along the rims of sere arroyos. They Succeed in thriving: an exquisite feat Amid the barren soil and rock-hard clay. And seemingly unfazed by searing heat, Up where the mescal trees and heaven meet, Cicadas make the wasteland throb with sound, Their many-years’ interment now complete. The desert’s lush abundance will abound With form and color rarely elsewhere found -- Throughout one sees the working of that hand Whose word and wisdom nature will expound.