M A G A Z •: - Desert Magazine of the Southwest

*1
BY FRANK MCCULLOCK
Fernley, Nevada
The Land that God forgot!
Who wrote this travesty
Knows not the Desert in the Spring,
The Mountains in their majesty.
Nor seen the glory of the setting sun,
Nor splendor of a desert dawn,
Nor purple shadows on the hills,
Nor heard the whispering breezes fawn
Upon the trees when twilight's come.
He has not seen the silver thread
That comes from hills of snow,
And laughs and gurgles in its bed
That leads to a lake below,
That has the blueness of the sky,
The wanton wildness of the sea,
And in the rocks upon its shores
Imprisoned mystery.
For had he looked with seeing eyes
On sunset in the west
He would not say "A land forgot,"
But "Land that God loves best."
• • •
PASSERBY
BY KATE GUCHTON GREDLER
Mount Kisco, New York
I am far from the desert, but I know 'long
the trail
The ocotillo's rifles bear thin bayonets of
flame
And where evening primrose lay in drifts as
white and frail
As snow, like snow they're melted in the fires
of May. My name
I wrote upon the sand. Look not to find it
where next year
The pale encelia gilds the arid land. I shall
not hear
The swift wingbeat of swallows skimming the
sandy seas,
And where my shallow name was writ, a fragrant
desert breeze
Had only to pass like a sighing breath and left
not a mark to show,
But the purple chia will bloom as fair,
The bright stars swing as low.
• • •
DESERT LAKE
BY WINIFRED GRAY STEWART
Crescent Mills, California
These are not earthly waters;
This is a lake out of a lost dream,
Where clouds lie, levelled in sleep,
And all the sky's colors gleam.
Winds walk here with steps not seen,
And whisperings that are heard
Only by lean cliff and lone mountain,
And water-loving bird.
Men who pause here drink deep.
Shading eyes with hands, they turn away
To tell of the taste of snow-fed springs.
But of this lake's loveliness there is little to
say.
• • •
MIRACLE
BY IDA CROCKER DUNCAN
Denver, Colorado
There never was a spring like this!
I say it every year,
When color blurs the desert haze
And flowers and birds, so dear
Come flocking back, a rushing throng
And suddenly — a song! a song!
Yet every year it is the same,
This perfect, breathing sight,
When Beauty walks from sealed tombs
Illumed in golden light
A blessed miracle, I view—
Not death, but only Life is true!
This picture by June de Bella oj San Jose, Calijornia was awarded second prize in Deserl Magazine's
March photographic contest.
MIRAGE
BY MYRTLE MELVIN FORTNER
Llano, California
On desert road at dawn I passed.
A lake I seemed to see;
Upon its shores were houses massed—
Where these things could not be!
I rode again that way. to view
A stretch of dull grey sand;
No tree nor house that terrain knew—
An arid, worthless land.
A desert waste or gleaming towers?
What can the answer be ?
I ponder many thoughtful hours
On this strange mystery,
For who can say which one was dream-
And which reality!'
CREED OF THE DESERT
BY JUNE LE MERT PAXTON
Yucca Valley, California
Up in Death Valley, on a barren knoll.
Old Mother Nature carved out a bowl.
She had many small, but needed a greater
That's why she made Ubehebe crater.
THE DESERT
BY CRISTEL HASTINGS
Mill Valley, California
Forgotten trails wind aimlessly along
Through miles of sage, half hidden by the sands
That drift in mounds, obliterating marks
That once were guide-posts in these western
lands.
Gaunt cacti rear their thorny arms and cast
A shadow like an eerie, grotesque thing,
And sagebrush hides a mound of sun-bleached
bones
Out where low western winds their sad dirge
sing.
Comes the soft sound of whispering at night—
The furtive shifting of the yellow sand
Running in tiny ripples with the wind
And molded by some unseen, phantom hand.
The blue mirage of water trembles low
Along horizons hazy with old dreams—
A mocking cloud sails on in burning skies
Leaving an aching memory of streams.
A breathless d;'wn brings promise of a day
Whose panting hours shall be marked with pain
And thirst—and blinded eyes and aching heart,
And bitter memories of cooling rain.
But when dusk hangs beyond the silver stars
That pierce the desert gloom like steady eyes,
A chilling sound brings coldness to the heart—
The wailing echoes of coyotes' cries.
MAY, 1941 23