Ed Keenan, cowboy poet

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Joshua Tree National ParkDesert Savannah

There is a certain feel to when summer starts heating up in the desert savannah. Mornings, mid-day and late afternoons each paint a different picture. Hiking westward along the foot of mountains, the feel and the scenery change like a desert sundial casts its shadow. The sun sets early, and the leaning shafts of shadow and sun inspire poem.


Desert Savannah

Up toward the majestic mountains,
following the meandering line of green
through a statuary of boulders and yuccas, 
the desert savannah is a dusty jade,
dappled with a blue-gray velvet
and scrub brush is smeared with yellow.

The huge mountain range ahead
peers down the edge of a sharp horizon
and lines of cliffs and buttes and castles.
Looking across the distant canyon
the trees are pasted like mache
¢
on the steep and rugged craggy faces.

The land becomes a steely quiet
during the wavy heat of noon in June,
except for the unrelenting ring of locust.
The sun slumps behind the mountains
and their shadows rise slowly
on the summit across the hazy chasm.

Now a second stage of alertness,
rattlesnakes! trigger a keen awareness
when the desert talus starts to cool,
so I take note of shades of granite
for red hues and speckled backs,
and observe each hole or shady cover.

Two grazing deer observe me,
and then bounding elastic and effortless
rebounding off the coil springs of earth,
suspended by some unseen force
they defy gravity with gracefulness,
and float away through the brittle brush.

Ed Keenan © 02-07

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