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A diverse array of flora and fauna reign majestic 
in vivid tawny imagery of shifting sand dunes 
and barren rocks-- sixteen miles
from the golden rays of western tomorrow.

Time is played out in crucial moments of emptiness
lying in solitude and intimate loneliness.
Sun-kissed miles of unshaded secrets
seeping from her maternal caramel eyes 
deep-rooted in morns muted sage oasis.

And to all who venture here
slow your manic footing and
let time stand still—briefly.
Her slow-paced allure awaits your clouded vision
and your desperate need for her sepia wonders. 

Mother Cholla proudly stands vertically amid the towering Saguaros. 
Nestled in Quartzsite and the thick aridness of the Sonoran Desert. 
Prominent in rustic charm and glorious plentiful cacti.
She defies the harsh climate with buoyant biodiversity. 

Her stripped perennial companions 
nestled between the parched tumbleweeds 
and the course granite stones 
guarding her in desiccated glory.

Ceaseless water doesn’t need to flow 
over her barbed surface to support her vital independence. 
She will grow at her own pace and quench the fleeting thirst 
whenever the isolated drops may fall.

Her forked tongue sheathed in womanly wonder
withstanding sandstorms, her head held high 
as the gritty dust dances in the empty space
between the cobalt blue and the torrid beige below.

Sol provides her the warmth and tenderness
she has grown accustomed to. 
An unspoken love affair of prickly passion 
and dry midsummer fever. 
They embrace at mornings earliest breath 
until he tucks her in lovingly in Luna’s lullaby. 
Rain and wind have left her lonely again
once nurturing her toasted ground babies 
covering them in Gaea’s adoring mud blanket.

And while her motherly essence invites you in
reaching out to hug you in her dense, fluffy arms 
beware of her ruthless gypsy soul 
as it ignites in a bronzed torch 
when lit by evening’s sigh. 

Her legacy is laid out in all four directions
biding as far as the eye can see
knowing no end and preferring it that way. 

A once resounding voice that echoed far and true
in Plomosa’s soaring presence—more subdued
but powerful all the same—naturally.

The hidden world within and upon us.
Every Ironwood, Creosote Bush and White Bursage
has a place in her xeric soil.
Every Black-throated Sparrow, Verdin, and Gila Woodpecker
finds solitude in her great vastness. 
You belong here too—wild spirit
find your place and be free.
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