In my previous article, Rare Allurement, I posted part of an old poem that was found on an old cabin door. The author of this timeless poem is unknown but I imagine it was someone who loved his time on the desert. His words ring true even today. I'm posting the rest of it for you folks who've asked to read it:
(Found written on the door of an old cabin on the desert)
Morning' on the desert, and the wind is blowin' free
And it's ours just for the breathin, so let's fill up you and me.
No more stuffy cities, where you have to pay to breathe,
Where the helpless human creatures move and throng and strive and seethe
Morning on the desert, and the air is like wine
And it seems like all creation has been made for me and mine
No house to stop my vision, save a neighbor's miles away
And the little 'dobe shanty that belongs to me and May.
Lonesome? Not a minute! Why I've got these mountains here,
That was put here just to please me, with their blush and frown and cheer.
They're waiting when the summer sun gets too sizzlin' hot,
An' we jest go campin' in 'em with a pan and coffee pot.
Mornin' on the desert -- I can smell the sagebrush smoke,
I hate to see it burnin' but the land must sure be broke.
Ain't it jest a pity that wherever man may live,
He tears up much that's beautiful that the good God has to give?
Sagebrush ain't so pretty...Well, all eyes don't see the same,
Have you ever saw the moonlight turn it to a silvery flame?
An' that greasewood thicket yonder--Well, it smells jest awful sweet
When the night wind has been shakin' it --for its smell is hard to beat.
Lonesome? Well, I guess not! I've been lonesome in a town
But I sure do love the desert with its stretches wide and brown.
All day through the sagebrush here the wind is blowin' free,
An it's our jest for the breathin', so let's fill up, you and me.
These words may rekindle fleeting moments you've experienced while camping out or travelling through the great expanses of desert in the United States. Since I was born near water on the Venezuelean coast, grew up on water in southwest Louisiana and now live a mile from the Pacific Ocean, it's a wonder that the desert appeals to me as it does. However, remember it's a dried up old sea and that energy remains. It flows. Salud.


Comments: 38
Thank you for posting this wonderful poem in all its completeness. Most of the basin and range country in Central Nevada was a sea in fairly recent times (at least on a geological wrist watch). There is more reason than rhyme that oceans and deserts are often first cousins!
Cheers,
Colonel Possum
Rob - thank you and I'm glad you came for a visit!
Mona, you're so funny - and yes, that's a good way to put it - ole timey cowboy poetry! The real deal.
Laura, thank you I do think so too!
Jadan, thanks for stopping by - I'll try to post a few "real" shots of blooming cactus flowers!
Debbie - and in the days of old - the desert air especially at night is very fresh!
Eric, I agree - in fact, dh and I often leave messages in bottles in rare places!
Robb, always nice to see you! Thank yall for stopping by! Salud.
Nice poem. Thanks for sharing Mariana!!!
Madame Mozzzeee
Miz Cinnamon, I appreciate you coming by!
Thanks Miz Connie
Madame Mozeee - your comments are always profound and insightful - thanks very much!
Edward - my new icon - oh that's me around age 10 - yes, there's a story behind this icon! It's when I began my photographic journey - I still have the first camera!
Miz Ina, thanks very much for coming by - I felt it as well! Thank each of you for coming by! Salud.
it is alovely poem
Good Morning, Dr. Saxena, and thank you for your comment. I posted this a long time ago and I appreciate you reminding me of it! Have a wonderful day wherever you are! Salud