Cacti Stand Like Guardians Below,

The cacti stand like guardians below
in silent lands beneath the stars;
their prickly shadows whisper low
of ancient tales and cosmic scars.

The desert stretches, green yet bare,
against the boundless starry sprawl;
yet life persists in quiet air
where night's vast mysteries call.

A billion lights pulse overhead,
they wheel and burn and slowly turn;
the dark is wide, the dust is red,
and still the patient cold stars burn.

The wind comes low across the sand
and stirs the spines but does no harm;
it moves like breath across the land
and keeps the night from growing warm.

The coyote calls a single note
that thins and trembles into night;
it hangs upon the air, remote,
then sinks below the edge of sight.

Yet morning waits beyond the rim,
the stars will pale and slip away;
and even in the desert dim
the guardians will greet the day.