I am an enigma, a paradox
and surely a challenge

Moments are long and empty in this land
My history is as vague as in my terrain

Prickly pear fences remain
Adobe structures melted in the rains

A palm survives to prove
Water lies close to the surface

Might it have once fed a mision spring
Melted into mere humps of adobe

Others disappeared completely
Truth is only truth to those who care

Horns of the big horn sheep
Arch over its bleached and sand-pitted skull

The wail of a wild cat
the shadows of a mule deer

Quail flushed from the grease wood proved water was nearby
Twisted cacti writhing across sandy ground

Lizards basking in the sun
In the north the Tipai, Pai-pai and Cocopah

A deserted ranch in a shallow arroyo
A spring gave sweet water

A fisherman’s shack
Nestled, hidden on the shore

A quiet, hidden paradise
That few chose to know

Baja

Bernie Swaim