The Desert

It’s late at night and I’m on the freeway,
Heading for the desert,
Heading for the stark beauty it offers.
I love the dryness and warmth of the air as I speed down the road,
Windows open and the radio seeking out that perfect song.
Against the black sky the barren land hides it’s tragic beauty.
I can feel the grainy sand under my shoes and smell the light dust in the air.
Here is where I know the magic sleeps.
Here is where I can truly feel and see the world around me.
I love the desert at night when the summer winds come blowing down.
Sleep never really comes then, only that place somewhere between awake and slumber.
It is then that you can hear the sounds of the world that stays hidden.
I trust this place, I trust myself here.
Away from the clutter of L.A., away from the interference it offers.
I love the desert at dawn, as I watch the early sun start to slowly rise.
The landscape begins to take on that sad withered shape as the sun rises higher in the sky.
I feel the heat begin to pulsate.
I love the desert in the daytime.
I watch the movement begin as small creatures start to slither and hide from the unrelenting sun.
They’ve been watching me all night as I lay on the hood of my car.
I feel the droplets of sweat as the rays slowing engulf my body.
I get in my car and drive back down the freeway, the magic still clinging to my damp skin.
I love the desert and the road that leads there.
Brenda Cowan

Pomonafalleavespumpkins 037

About leeskid (Brenda Cowan)

Breathing, writing, listening
This entry was posted in Rambling Thoughts, Poems and Photos. Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to The Desert

  1. Alan Boyd says:

    Yes! I’m right there with you in the desert…. love the strangely comforting feeling of insignificance that fills me when I’m there, transcends all of the day to day “interference” of LA, as you so aptly put it.

    (Nice pictures, too)

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