Big Bend Country 

Now in retirement, in the desert mountains,

above Chihuahuan plains, we await the stark, harsh land.


Though the deer and antelope deceive, hidden in the brush,

with their melting brown eyes,

the javelinas lumber.


Coiled near volcanic rock, the rattlesnake waits,

the scorpions crawl.


The emptiness stretches, the beauty not human.



For now, we live in town, with sycamore and mulberry trees,

hummingbirds at the feeders, house finches and house sparrow,

doves and titmice.


Peace roses bloom in yellow bursts and the climbing red, Don Juan

roses fill the air with intoxicating scent.


We talk, we read, we play cards, we travel

But town life sits lightly on the desert rock.



Beyond the post office, across the tracks, into the brush plains

mountains, the emptiness stretches.


We grow old.


Fran Sage

Photo Sandy Sage


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8 Responses to

  1. Jesse says:

    How did you get such a close shot of the deer?

  2. Barbara Estinson says:

    Sandy, your mom’s poem leaves a lump in my throat. She was so gifted with words. As are you. Your deer photo is amazing. Thanks for this beautiful start to my day.

  3. Brenda McCracken says:

    Oh wow. The poem brings tears to my eyes. Wow. A lovely bittersweet nod to the last years of life.

  4. John P Baumann says:

    Hey, Sandy,
    This is a powerful poem to share at such a vulnerable moment, so utterly fitting.
    I regret not checking in more often.
    Coming soon: photo of new Craig office! 😉
    I so appreciate your linking me to such a good, safe haven.

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