Search carefully
and you may find
fossils, of shells
of clams and snails
where once shallow
seas covered all.
Though now only
sand cushions the
cautious footfalls
of any lone
adventurer.
And small creatures
skitter about
midst brambles and
burs like beetles
and stone- colored
lizards. While some
have called this land
ugly, barren
God- forsaken
fit for but thorns
or for bandits;
Mesquite smoke wafts
skyward from my
cooking fire and
my brindle pup,
Kokopelli
plays with an old
mayonnaise jar.
9 days are left
till Thanksgiving.
though the weather's
unusual
balmy and mild
a few cabbage
butterflies still
flit among blue
and red flowers.
And somewhere I
know, there's Facebook
with photos of
smiling faces
and friends who plan
Christmas shopping-
get- togethers.
Somewhere lovers
laugh, money is
made, but here, chores
mean survival-
hauling water
finding firewood.
There's a subtle
beauty not all
can recognize...
And my Belgian
Malinois shakes
flies from his fur
he's the color
of topaz, scorched
amber, were he
a horse, he'd be
called sorrel, roan
or perhaps, dark
Palomino.