The cliffs are painted
with the thousand shades of red
that dance within a campfire.
Their climbs protrude from
the fresh green junipers,
sage brushes and grasses,
like red waves over a green sea.
The hawks circle in the sky
like gulls above the ocean,
motionless and waiting for their chance.
In the distance,
the clouds are gray,
a dark, smokey shade,
they drop their waters
and hide the red waves behind them.
The desert is not arid and lifeless this year.
It breathes with the life of the ocean
and endures its scars.
No comments:
Post a Comment