Emma Hawkridge: The Painted Desert

“Delicate land,
Fabulous land,
Clear as a bird-song afloat in the morning,
Keener than glacial air;
Exquisite gift of the slow-building sea,
Held like an altar up to the sky,
Circled with light, cliff-columns high
Rising aerially.

Dare men approach your enchantments of sand,
Land where the rainbow lies bare?—
Enter your sun-guarded gateways of space,
Mortals, like snails with a cheapening trail,
Fearful of mystery, wearily pale,
Out of today’s commonplace?

Over the wasteland a strong wind goes;
Like captured heat lies the cactus rose.
The desert sings:
Sand-precious flowers and quick lizards lie
In a world like the brazen bowl of the sky—
Sun-captured things.
Color and distance come weaving their dances,
Mystery-full the great silence advances;
Then, at your hand,
Marvelling, mortals unfold strange wings.
Delicate, fabulous land!”