By Norman McKnight
The winding channel of the desert road
Between the sage, windswept and desolate,
Has made its course as water might have flowed
But turning never to a door nor gate.
Sands are forgetful, and a trail must bind
Some distant havens still, or disappear;
Nomadic wheels have kept this land defined –
Men travel it but do not tarry here.
by Heidi Campbell
Upon a nice mid-spring day, Let's take a look at Nature's way. Breathe the scent of nice fresh air, Feel the breeze within your hair.
The grass will poke between your toes, Smell the flowers with your nose. Clouds form shapes within the skies, And light will glisten from your eyes.