When we are gone, none shall remember, not ourselves or prodigy of own

The beauty and mystery of the plains and deserts in the west

The way the warm winds around the canyons had blown

The way the prairie dogs would scatter to their holes if at all distressed 

Time will claim all that is seen and heard 

The wild domain of every animal and bird

The untame of the plain dotted with tufs and fern;

Mother earth will drain the life from here without a word

When we are gone, none shall remember these sights

The majestic way the caracara’s feathers decorated like regal gems give it its might

The subtle sway of the cactus with its foliage of yellow and pink decorating like lights

The glory of this is not to stay, when one realizes it can force into existential plight

But in the sorrow, in the temporary, we might find a permanent will

To see as much of the birds and grass and the crimson landscape

For those are the sights that give hearts their fill

To look at the evident mortality and find an escape