Desert Tale (college)
The trees lean over the highway
Like beggars asking for a handout
Buffeted by the unsympathetic wind
Of our passing.
It is the best way for them to stay cool
In the unblocked heat.
Later, farther away from civilization,
Where there are no trees
And cactus farm is redundant,
The red rock turns the sky lavender.
The undersides of clouds glow pink
In the afternoon,
A slight blush on the clouds,
And when the sun fails
The sky fades from dusky pink to black
Only to reverse itself the next morning.
And when there are no clouds,
The day sky is more immense than the night,
And the night sky is powdered
With billions of stars
Like white stars (the best metaphor).
All through the rock,
Chasms made by the force of the river,
Now chained by men,
And boulders seemingly strewn
Into balletic positions,
Crag the earth as if to show
The power of beauty.
Thunderstorms roll over the land
That flash, and hit,
And then move on
Leaving clay red puddles
And nothing else:
A transitory villain.
Scattered images of art.
And on the road back to civilization
The trees lean over the highway
Like doormen
Waving us along.
Bob poetry 