All that lies on this desert floor,
Is a scorching, hot, deserted morgue;
Beady-eyed vultures circle high,
But nothing else to break the sky.

Desolate, barren, white bones or skulls,
Bare rocks, dry sand, colorless, dull;
Do you think God creates a place,
Then leaves without some sign of grace?

God has compassion for all lands,
And He's adorned these desert sands;
Wild flowers every Spring appear,
Mysterious blooms, year after year.

Sunrise is God's special treat,
Pristine and cool before day's heat;
Then floodgates open, the sun explodes,
A pure gold world is then disclosed.

But God's greatest gift comes at day's end,
For then His artistry begins;
Sunsets ... orange, yellow, red,
Purple shadows vastly spread.

Colors of such gorgeous splendor,
A painting God alone can render;
Each twilight better than before,
No two alike; each varies more.