Nature

The Sonoran Desert
“From before the beginning, of the beginning of time.”
 
It’s always dry and desolate,
With an intense sun glaring down.
There’s very little green to see,
For miles and miles around.
 
Its surface is kiln-baked solid,
Becoming a crispy crust.
When I walk upon it,
It crumbles into dust.
 
The hot winds add their music;
Blowing constantly across this land.
They sing the songs of solitude,
Only loneliness can understand.
 
It’s almost flat to the horizon,
With some rises coming into sight.
In the sky, twinkling stars,
Defy the darkness of the night.
 
A giant cactus grows here,
Reaching sixty feet straight and tall.
It is the Saguaro, “The big cactus.”
The giant that doesn’t fall.
 
 As the tallest cactus on earth,
The Sonoran Desert is its home.
Mostly, it has candelabra branches,
But sometimes, it shoots up alone.
 
It lives a hundred years or more,
As to three thousand pounds it grows.
It stores the seasonal rain to use,
When no more water flows.
 
Around it, layered peaks stand tall,
Thrust upward during a fiery clime.
They are the sentinels guarding the desert,
And have existed across endless time.
 
Their pinnacles rise to a thousand feet,
Where once flowing lava escaped from those peaks.
It’s cooled now and hardened there in place,
Fixed forever up high where it leaked.
 
Life abounds this land;
Where it competes for food to live.
This crucible shows no favors,
And has no preference to give.
 
In the dust the snakes meander,
Leaving their “S” shaped signature trails.
The scorpions dash from here to there,
Holding high their poisonous tails.