Wednesday, April 13, 2011

A poem written on my visit to S.E. Arizona



                                          The Spirit of Silverado

Beside a highway in Southeast Arizona that was once the Butterfield Stagecoach Line

Lies a place of mystery that seems unconstrained by the  surly bonds of time

And in evening quiet one may find the scenes and sounds of times long ago

Here at this place of quiet and mysterious beauty, this wondrous Silverado


Listen carefully now and you may hear the sounds of the clattering hoofbeats and drivers shout

In the mind's eye one may see the tired and dusty travelers alight the coach and walk about

For the ghosts of those who struggled and blazed the trails that we in our time travel to and fro

May be found among the many spirits here today  at this quiet and mystic spot known as Silverado


The weak and lame, the lonely and hurt, the fearful and troubled, and all who of this life  despair

Will find here in this high desert among our Makers other creatures , a place where troubles repair

The comfort of the soft touch and silent commune with the creatures found here,   you will know

At this place of quiet beauty and mystery, this place of peace, comfort and healing, called Silverado


When at the end of your stopover here, like the travelers of old, rested , you remount your coach and

Continue your journey  to other destinations in the great and  wondrous  America land

Know that a part of you will always dwell here among the peaceful spirits, and no matter  where you go

You will be remembered and welcome here at this quiet and mystic place called Silverado

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