Southwest Landscapes

Five in the morning Orange and red glow in the east A new day is born A single rain drop Looks to be the final straw Now the flood begins Albuquerque view Volcanoes on the mesa Since the age of time Once green and growing Now brown and brittle and free A Tumbleweed's life With long floppy ears And kangaroo backleg kicks It roams the mesa Bone dry arroyo But when the rains fall heavy A river runs wild Blackened pine tree trunks Struggling to regain life Only time will tell Blistering sunlight Sheltered cove of solid rock A sliver of shade Multicolored hues Cliffs of reds, browns, blacks, and whites Southwestern landscape Red rock formations As far as the eye can see And way back in time Rocks piled upon rocks Balanced precariously Thousands of years now Upright arms of green Prickly needle point barbs anchored in the sand A typical day Arid heat of one-o-eight No humidity All along the ridge Patiently waiting for years Arms lifted towards God Two thousand years back These cliffs were inhabited Why did they all leave Striated hillsides In the land of enchantment Navajo glory Six-sided hogans Grandfather's ancient design Still in use today Cemetery stones No tree to provide them shade What a sad, sad sight Knarly old pine tree roots Wrapped around an ancient stone Holding on for life Fluffy white mountains Filling up an azure sky Will it rain today? Dancing dust devils Whirling twirling to the sound Of the wind's music Shimmering mirage The desert laughs at the lost Nature's cruelty A dry washboard road Miles out through the desert A crystal blue lake Manmade lake at damn Stopping mother nature's flow Do we have the right? Upturned leaves on tree Frantically waving in wind Soon the rains will come He rattled his tail Demanding respect from all We complied as one Sun rises, sun sets Twenty four hours are over Accomplish anything? Not a sound was heard Footprints only in our wake The desert winds sleep Not a sound is heard Footprints only in our wake The desert winds sleep The crunch of gravel Undeveloped housing roads Early morning walks The smell of wood smoke Memories of the Southwest Couldn't help but smile Warming in the sun Like a lizard on a rock What a view I had Morning wakeup call Bacon wafting through the house Even I got up Pollution puddle Reflecting rainbow colors Do we call that art? New Mexico winds Neither unseen nor unheard Constantly blowing