Another Fiction


The Western Sky

    is high and dry

Where rocky mountains

    fill the eye,

And rivers run

    not East

    but West,

The Anglo-Saxon

    man came last.


For years, and years,

    the Native Man

Had lived and tooled

    the Western Land.

Upon this open

    vast terrain,

The clime was harsh

    from lack of rain.


Yet, lived there still

    an older clan,

Ten-thousand year-old

    Clovis Man.

Where all had thought

    this No Man’s Land,

Was bland at best,

    its best, all Sand.


A brownstone rock

    aground was tagged,

Charred, hard-burnt,

    in general, ragged.

People poor,

    and poor in people,

A vaulted Church

    and mountain steeple,

All belie the Western Land

    as old as grains

Of pebbled sand.


Beauty is

    as Beauty Says:

It lasts as long

    as Man once was.




©2013, Marvin Loyd Welborn

7 September 2013


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