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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
MOJAVE DESERT, by CLYDE ROBERTSON
First Line: In the mojave desert we saw swallows
Last Line: And a lean red spider on my hand.
Subject(s): Mohave Desert; Mojave Desert
First Line: In the mojave desert we saw swallows
Last Line: And a lean red spider on my hand.
Subject(s): Mohave Desert; Mojave Desert
In the Mojave Desert we saw swallows,
High above its sun-baked hollows,
Beat the dusty sky with black
Tireless wings. We followed a track,
Worn and bleached as a thin white band,
Into the heart of a wasted land.
Here, the sun at four o'clock
Rose in the east like a blazing shock
To sear the spikes of a joshua tree;
Then, there was no more to see --
Nothing at all save naked sand
And a lean red spider on my hand.
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