Craggy spires atop a canyon wall,
against a pure blue sky and sun;
the creek's flowing over tiny bridges,
and the day is only partly done.

Twenty miles away, lies Tucson,
you can see it's skyline shimmer;
but here is nature,  in the raw,
those are memories that linger.

Saguaros stand in stately fashion,
amongst the rock and barren land;
the views, they take away your breath,
the vistas sweeping, wide and grand.

It's 80 in this later month of winter,
this freaky temperature is strange;
I wear a t-shirt and my hiking shorts,
out here -   out in this open range.

Sabino Canyon is a place majestic,
reminding me of why I love the West;
the sky, a vast and huge umbrella,
the splendid canyon, takes care of all the rest.