By Paul Norris         

The highway undulates like a diamondback, making its way across a sandy wash.

Back and forth, up and down, twisting and turning lazily until its belly slithers over the horizon.

The clouds gather and vie for position as a crowd, pushing and shoving each other out of the way for the view.

But as quickly as they come, they see and lose interest and wander on to the next show.

Some darkening and crying at their disappointment.

The winds blow briskly, prodding the dust to flee before it.

Into every nook and cranny it crawls, hiding, like a jackrabbit from the soaring hawk.

Yet stands the lonely Mesa, unmoved…

 

This poem originally appeared in the Fall 2013 Issue of The Wall Newspaper