Ranch Land

The cold rain from the mountain
will never reach the ground.
A veil above the ranch land,
a storm that makes no sound.
 
The soil is powder black
with leaking crankcase oil.
Where the gypsies are the masters
shade is a miracle.
 
The wind throbs like an engine.
Nothing stands in the way.
Dusting up the ranch land
south of Santa Fe.
 
From where I stand you can see for miles.
 
Don’t get too close to me
you might catch my dreams.
The scorpion and me
might be your only friends...
in the sand.
 
Much better the desert
than to grovel in the bottomland.
Better by the light of the moon, man.
Running with the wind on the ranch land.
 
From where I stand you can see for miles.


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