Classic Poem

If I, I too, might stand
Wrapped in a scarlet blanket from the wind
In the heart of this scarlet land,
With the goats feeding around me,
Agile, wild-eyed,
Cropping the bitter growth of the desert
While the wind ruffles each hide
To flowing silver and white
Nearly as white
As the bones of those that have died—

If I, I too, might stand
Under the turquoise sky
That roofs the red walls of the mesas
Where dead sorcerers lie
Buried among their charms,
If I might stand
In the midst of my goats
In the heart of this blood-colored land
Dreaming of rain-gods to come,
Clapping their wings
On the arching back of a rainbow
While a swallow twitters and sings—