Rosillos' Sunset

Across the rocky carpet of cacti-strewn desert
the steep, amethyst slopes of the Rosillos Mountains rise
with dagger-like peaks reaching up, like hands into the
ruby sky hiding the setting sun that steals a look
through these ancient fingers, like a child trying to
catch his last glimpse of his room before the lights
are turned out. Far below the craggy peaks, a lone yucca
stands watching the shadows race toward and past him
like wild horses. The rocks, the cacti, and the greasewood
take on new colors, like a chameleon, as if to blend
with a new background. As the sun continues to set
behind the craggy hands, the scents of the desert
mingle and rise, like the aroma of an exotic and
carefully prepared stew.