(Photo Title: The Edge of NIght)
The Rushing Edge of NIght
For a moment --we stood --on the cliff at the edge of the Ajo
overlooking the flat plane that stretched out before us
The desert was dotted with organ pipe and saguaro cactus.
On the horizon the earth spun the last rays of the sun shifting colors:
light bending sky blue to sea green, gold then crimson.
Each shade giving way to the deep purple that is the rushing edge of night.
Above and against the sheer cliff walls night hawks and swifts were
catching the last thermal rush of warm desert air as it was
drawn back into the cold chill of heaven. It was said that Pancho Villa
camped and hid here when the situation warranted.
In sand stone depressions, under rocky shade the late summer rains
still pooled creating water for the thirsty and
enough feed for horses in the form of wild oats.
The Ajo mountains lay on a line north to south allowing the view
to be expansive. Sentry's would have surveyed (as could we)
all movement on the desert floor below.
To the east the impenetrable rugged mountains went on for miles. As we
stood on solid rock eyes transfixed on this pallet of light and color, our hearts soared with wings –riding the winds that change and do not change.
Allowing the past to catch up to the present –
revealing secrets that lingered in the warm desert air
as the moment was swept up by the rushing edge of night
(COPYRIGHT ©2001 W.T. Davies)