In Arizona one may greet
The desert with its burning heat.
And then next day upon a hill,
Confront the gaping Canyon's chill.
From cactus to the piñon pine
And Colorado's serpentine,
One wonders at the vast array
On any Arizona day.
Sedona with its flaming rocks
Is one of nature's wondrous shocks,
While Tlaquepaque's alleys show
An air of distant Mexico.
The Anasazi Spirits weep
And Mogollons, in disbelief,
Watch thieves profane their petroglyphs
In Mesa Verde's undercliffs.
Old Phoenix rose from smelted ashes
By copper mining mountain gashes"-
But real estate now dominates
Among the Valley's potentates.
The Superstition Mountains hold
Much more than tales of buried gold.
The ashes of my gentle folks
Now rest beneath the mountain's oaks.
On Arizona's Granite Reef
Where geckos play and life is brief,
One looks in vain for purling streams
And finds instead one's bleakest dreams.
Mark SconceThe Poet Realtor
