DESERT SCENE

The heat waves shimmer, and slowly rise,

As the sun challenges horse and man,

And even the buzzard forsakes the skies,

But high in some crag, he'll scan,

The area where no man can dwell,

And watch in silent greed,

One mile on either side of Hell,

For a halt in the stride of a steed.

And a horned toad watches listlessly

From the shade of a yucca tree

And a black snake slithers away.

An iguana, throwback of history,

Hides in volcanic ash of grey,

And a sidewinder lifts his ugly head

And shakes his rattles well,

As he moves among cattle bones,

On either side of Hell.

The Gila Monster with death in his jaw,

Watches their passing with beady eyes,

But the rider rides with hate in his craw,

And where he rides, there some one dies.

And nothing attacks and nothing succeeds,

For, indeed, there is nothing that can;

For the deadliest thing the desert sees