SILVER MORNING
With a silver sky
Over mounting the rocky cliffs
Of desert sand gone by.
With the hawks on the winds
The gold is rising
With the promise of rain
In this west Texas highlight
I begin to paint.
In the dust of the cattle
And cowboys gone by
Is the blood of the Indians
As they fought and died.
This canvas will carry
More than the dust
It will picture in paint
Why Texas survives
With the history of peoples
That hawks still cry...
I begin to paint.