In case there was a doubt,

the desert coolness is in the air.

The cactus wants to bloom,

but is held for that perfect time.


The moon is full, but shielded with hints of haze.

Jack rabbits and quail gather in hiding from the coyote.

And the rays of the setting sun,

are like gleaming pipes of the church organís chimes.




Criss-crossed are the mountain trails,

running over the canyonís brim.

Arroyos and Saguaro are her guardians of the past.

And the Sentry cactus stands its ground.


Before man we remember, but to God is the glory.

We are where we are due to the paths that we have come.

No remorse,

for deserts turn to paradise sweet,

like our lives in Jesus shall abound.



  We Are Where We Are by Ronhales                                                                                                                                                    Psalm 107:35

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