Hades screams its torrid winds,
Scorching earth of bone and skin.
Desolate ground of sun bleached sand,
Reminiscent of lunar land.
Scrub brush torn from shallow root,
Crushed to dust while under foot.
Watching step for danger lurks,
From thorn and fang and stingers work.
Blistering flesh under cloudless sky,
Waterless fools most surely die.
So this goes for man and beast,
It matters not be most or least.
Call of hawk and vulture above,
No place for cardinal, sparrow or dove.
Unforgiving this land it takes,
Seizing on each and every mistake.
Birds of prey circle and wait,
For nature to inflict a certain fate.
A hearty meal in barren land,
Relying on the feast at hand.
Wasteland though it seems to be,
There’s so much more than the eye can see.
It’s beauty lies not in pleasing flowers,
Nor in forests where great pine trees tower.
Instead it lies in stark contrast,
To seashores blue landscape so vast.
Inhospitable appearance its enduring charm,
In spite of all potential harm.
~~ Dominic R. DiFrancesco ~~