The desert moon looked down on us
From a sparkling starlit sky
Two lonely weary travelers
Just my Naomi and I

The empty Pecos Valley now
Down from the" Great Divide"
Time and again I would have quit
But for Naomi at my side

We looked in vain for natures' gifts
From the cruel and stubborn soil
Many fortunes made out there
Of gold of silver,of oil!

We worked all through the daylight hours
Beneath the blazin' sun
We loaded wagons,tired as hell
And always on the run

I noticed somethin' yesterday
Out the corner of my eye
Naomi staggers once or twice
And gave a sort of sigh

I realize this cannot go on
To do so would be cruel
I know it's kind of heartless but
I'll need another mule

My answered prayer came up to me,
And in the silence thus spake he:
“O you who prayed for me to come,
Your greeting is but cold and dumb.”

My heart made answer:  “You are fair,
But I have prayed too long to care.
Why came you not when all was new,
And I had died for joy of you.”

Have you ever seen
anything
in your life
more wonderful

than the way the sun,
every evening,
relaxed and easy,
floats toward the horizon

and into the clouds or the hills,
or the rumpled sea,
and is gone--
and how it slides again

out of the blackness,
every morning,
on the other side of the world,
like a red flower

streaming upward on its heavenly oils,
say, on a morning in early summer,
at its perfect imperial distance--
and have you ever felt for anything
such wild love--
do you think there is anywhere, in any language,
a word billowing enough
for the pleasure

that fills you,
as the sun
reaches out,
as it warms you

as you stand there,
empty-handed--
or have you too
turned from this world--

or have you too
gone crazy
for power,
for things?

(War Time)

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum-trees in tremulous white;

Robins will wear their feathery fire
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree
If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn,
Would scarcely know that we were gone.

When I am dying, let me know
That I loved the blowing snow
Although it stung like whips;
That I loved all lovely things
And I tried to take their stings
With gay unembittered lips;
That I loved with all my strength,
To my soul’s full depth and length,
Careless if my heart must break,
That I sang as children sing
Fitting tunes to everything,
Loving life for its own sake.

Brick
        By
            Brick
A house is built
Hour
        By
            Hour
The house becomes a home
Day
        By
            Day
The home turns into memories
Year
        By
            Year
The memories turn into people
Century
        By
            Century
The people turn into stories
Story
        By
            Story
Stories turn into legends
Legend
        After
            Legend
History is changed
Piece
        By
            Piece
Lives are changed
Person
        By
            Person
Love is spread
One Love
        After
            Another
Bricks are purchased
That build houses
That turn into homes
That create memories
That turn into people
That turn into stories
That turn into legends
That change history
And it all started with
Just. One. Brick.