Echoes in the Desert Homestead

Beneath the vast New Mexico skies,
Where clouds like cotton softly rise.
An olden cabin, walls weather-worn,
Stands solemnly in the desert, forlorn.

The mountain guards in stony might,
A silent sentinel in the light.
Its shadow stretches over the land,
Over the cabin, over the sand.

The porch is empty, the doors askew,
Echoing tales that the wind once blew.
Through broken windows and gaping doors,
Where silence now dances on dusty floors.

The snowflakes kiss the thirsty ground,
A fleeting beauty in the quiet found.
They rest in patches, cold and rare,
A contrast stark in the desert air.

The trees bear witness, boughs held high,
To time's relentless march, the open sky.
Their roots entwined with the earth's own heart,
In this tranquil scene, they play their part.

Here, the world seems to hold its breath,
In this corner of life, of time, of death.
The cabin whispers of days gone by,
Under the wide and watchful New Mexico sky.