What a brutal sun that assaults the cliffs

What a brutal sun that assaults the cliffs
Where cacti and mescals dare to abide!
Here and there, dozens of petroglyphs
Decorating the canyon may be espied.

In large nesting circles neatly drawn
In evaporating wisps and bold squares
In a sun giving thanks for every dawn
In little starbursts and stick figures

In a deer, in an eagle looking strong
In a war scene foretold by prophets
It remains unsaid – time is not long
But to the same end, everything drifts.