Strolling In The Mojave

A little trail, to the high ground, With cholla, and yuccas everywhere. Nothing stirs there is no sound, And hot wind blowing through my hair. Jackrabbits bounding in the sand, Raising mini clouds of dust. Surviving where only the elite can, Desert denizens have no trust. Horned toads and snakes abound, But quickly scurry to their homes. Little burrows in the desert ground, They prefer to be alone. White quartz is everywhere, With the promise of raw gold. This land is beautiful and fair, And it's only for the bold. Purple mountains all around, Ringing the desert like a bowl. Holding everything well bound, Giving the desert it's glorious soul. The setting sun off to the west, Drops behind the mountain range. As I take a deep breath into my chest, The twilight turns familiar things to strange. Heading for home, I'm really too far out, Coyotes are howling to the south, Out here no one can hear you shout, And there's a dryness in my mouth. Just a small drink from my canteen, And I'll head west, to follow the sun. The breeze is warm, and dry, and clean, I'm walking back the day is done. One of my favorite pastimes in Twentynine Palms Ca. 9/2/10 Alton Texas