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.