I stand in the middle of a cold barren high desert.
Winds of winter howling…
Alone it seems, as I straining hear the silence exert,
Power Divine! I’m cowling…
In the Presence of this Holy sound my ideas dessert!
All dreams flee with yowling!
Whimper, return to netherworld; must die or convert!
Ultimate Truth is de-fouling…
This barren land is a cold mirror of what I am; only dirt!
In me I see the evil prowling…
Condemned if I should choose to ignore this Holy alert,
Finality! Death’s wind howling…
If I decide to remain in my barren state and reality skirt,
Defy God and rise fist growling!
Winter icy desert isolation only a taste of my future hurt,
If I deserving of Holy scowling!
Remain in a desert turned hot to burn fools who pervert,
Ignore Holy Wind’s cowling!
joyindestructible 
Living only a few miles from where the high plains meets the high desert, I understand this imagery very well. Beautiful.
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Hi Linda, I don’t know how I missed your comment. Thank you. I re-read this poem and think that I really need the weather to warm up! It’s been brutal lately. A few feet in elevation and the world changes.
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Reblogged this on Talmidimblogging.
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Thanks Vincent! Stay warm, spring is coming!
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You’re welcome! Yeah! Only 60 days!!
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Love the picture and the poem Pam.
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Thank you, Jim. Blessings.
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oh, yes!
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Makes me wanna break out in a rousing round of “Old Turkey Buzzard,” from Mackenna’s Gold
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I have no clue, Pattrick…lol is it a Southern thing?:0)
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Youtube that song…”Old Turkey Buzzard. I drive my wife nuts singing it all the time. It was the theme song for Mackenna’s Gold that came out in the late 60’s and takes place in the mid west desserts
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I’ll look it up today. I don’t remember “Mackenna’s Gold”. Don’t drive your wife too crazy, she might decide to do something drastic!;-}
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