Death Valley
The sun shining on the brine
To make a Great Salt Lake.
Up the canyon by the corkscrew,
Yet looked like a robe
Awaiting its filling
The setting sun pierced my back.
Dirtly disk with crescent West
Hung with South
Colors in the dirt,
Colors in the rock.
Walk up a canyon,
Go back in time
And Forever.
Copyright ©
Wm Paul | Year Posted 2011
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