The winds of time
have scoured
and aged everyone,
bleaching the bones
in the desert sun.
The half covered
wayside grave,
denotes the life
some pioneer gave,
to tame this
lawless desert plain.
Now, the dismal
lowing of cattle coming,
to the small
yucca shaded spring.
The rhythmic beats of
wild horse hoofs
drumming this hard
baked desert thing.
The desert agelessly
echoes all sounds from
it's sand and rocks.
Watching for the ghosts
of men and women,
who once were young,
and gloried in the beauty
of the desert's setting sun.
have scoured
and aged everyone,
bleaching the bones
in the desert sun.
The half covered
wayside grave,
denotes the life
some pioneer gave,
to tame this
lawless desert plain.
Now, the dismal
lowing of cattle coming,
to the small
yucca shaded spring.
The rhythmic beats of
wild horse hoofs
drumming this hard
baked desert thing.
The desert agelessly
echoes all sounds from
it's sand and rocks.
Watching for the ghosts
of men and women,
who once were young,
and gloried in the beauty
of the desert's setting sun.
Published by David Lanier
Born and raised in Salt Lake City, Utah. Grew up working in the family business. Worked at the Grand Canyon in'93, and fell in love with the power of nature. Spent some time in the Army. Married for a few ye... View profile
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7 Comments
Post a CommentGreat job ;)
: )
great job, love the visuals in this, I can just see the tumbleweeds blowing across the desert...well done!
Nice:)!!
Poignantly beautiful.
good poem linked it to the blog :) jenn
http://dionysusmused.blogspot.com/2010/08/winds-of-time.html
Picturesque.