Twilight colors in the High Desert,
a last show for the wanderer,
colors deep and muted,
piercing the grey soil.

The vast stillness
teased by a crickets call
and dust muffled footsteps,
ambling and hurrying

to get home before dark,
stumbling, an awkward ballet,
trees and rocks keep the silence,
so close to home.

Choosing pictures,
unsatisfied at first,
and then all becomes
a picture, every stone

every tree, sagebrush,
and rocky knoll, walls
of lava, inviting protection,
to the wanderer on his way home.

Anthills on every mound,
shattered rocks left alone
trees crowning every rise
and blue sky turning to glow

I linger, daring the falling light,
the cooling air, blanket silence
and the eternal night,
desperate victor of desert life

Twilight colors in the High Desert
welcoming me to the stay,
but darkness has its own domain
and I dare not remain.