Friday, July 2, 2010
The Desert at 17
I came across something the other day I thought I would share with you. It probably goes back somewhat to my post on how many people miss the beauty in the desert if they aren’t looking closely enough. I read this and laughed at my struggling attempt when I was 17 years old to capture it.
Some people say the desert is forlorn,
With barren land and with sands that are worn.
They say God's hand could not have touched this land;
Where is the beauty and where is the grand?
Tall cactus framed by a dark crimson sky;
Tired tumbleweeds roll with the wind and never die,
The sage stretches on for many a long mile;
I look at this detailed glory and smile.
Night comes on slow in the land deep and dark,
Dawn makes its way, with hues that soon depart.
Day finally comes and to heaven rejoices,
For this land is one of His mightiest choices.
The Scribblings...1967 (The Scribblings was our high school collection of senior writing deemed worthy enough for publication.)