Return to If Wishes Were Horses Beggars Would Ride

Morning in the red and gold desert.

Last nights dreams of being lost

only dreams.


I have my place on this earth. 


The god of this day beats his black wings overhead

sure of where he's going.


Sun strikes yellow rock walls 

sending the cold night off.


What does the god of this day want me to give away?


Will I hear him if he speaks?


Geese and Raven call from the east and south.

The sounds of man's oil drinking machines bounce

over the canyon walls

eaten by the red earth.


Now the wind, now the wing, now silence.