Desert Journey

An appaloosa of a thousand desert journeys
carries a breathless me.
Through the tracks of quail, and doves we search
of signs before...

Homesteaders, Cochise, Coronado,

legends of lost treasures,
lure me with thoughts of lore.

My husband, even sometime hears, the ghost of Rex
sing in a voice forlorn.

The magenta hue beckons,
a prickly pear explodes.
A Calliope and Rufus
become vibrant in their quarrel.
The loser lights upon the century plant
and I continue to explore...

Down the sandy wash we travel,
my faithful partner and I
looking for chunks of f gold
washed from a Dos Cabezas mine.

My horses’ ears flicker
and I look up towards the sky,
the rush of circling sandhill cranes
whirling on a downdraft to find
crops of corn calling,
and Playa shrimp already brined.

A mesquite maze beckons
with promise of more wings
but dusk is deepening over the Dragoons.
The sunset starts to wane.

Reluctantly I turn my reins ,
but not before I see the raptor
roosting in the walnut tree.

I have not had the wilderness sojourns

of my dedicated horse.
I thrill at the sudden splash

of a crimson tail
hidden with a mouse
not so mighty in the brush.

We tiptoe by the smell of musk
we hear the muffled grunt
of javelina jostling
and selecting which cacti to munch.

We hear the wings of a night hawk
then a great owl hoots goodbye

My horse and I turn toward home
no gold of Coronado,
or Apache arrowheads found
but I have been enthralled
with all the valley’s sounds.

I too have found treasures
not perhaps in Wall street’s worth
but of four leggeds , flying feathers,
and simple pleasures of the earth.