Desert rose is in full bloom,
I can smell its strong perfume;
a hawk is dipping in the wind,
in fluffy clouds the sun is pinned.
The air is light, no humidity,
a hundred miles my eyes can see;
one mile high, on rolling hills,
evening brings its springtime chill;
I walk along the lonesome road,
shedding quickly, daytime's load;
Content to set a modest pace,
content to be within this space;
relishing the twilight coming,
I begin my quiet humming.
The desert rose is in full bloom,
I can smell its strong perfume,
there's nothing now, that I lack,
as I make the turn to head on back.