The landscape stretching; ever distant, bare.
Sandstone bluffs flayed raw; shed sand red as blood.
World's edge broken by brush and cactus there.
Cracks split too far, the bravest dream of mud.
A twisted tree, its branches bleached as bone,
Skeleton branches scratching at the sky.
Offers, in its dry heart, the humblest home,
For desert wasps, sun struck, too hot to fly.
But when the sun, a blazing eye is set,
Bursts forth the life, so absent of the day.
And 'neath the pale blue moon, in its light wet,
That life cavorts in joyous dance and play.
Even where death dares not to claim its get
May flourish life and stand to be well met.