On her painted palomino she'd road out early-on.
Her six shooter strapped in leather at her side.
Roaming the canyons in her desert valley home.
Stopping long enough to swig a drink from her canteen.
Now mesmerised by blurred images elusive in their form.
Mirrored by heat and sand.
To the west ahead strong winds began to blow.
Watching the rise and fall of twisting dirt devils below.
Majestically she is spellbound for a moment locked in time.
Her spirits high bursting with enthusiasm.
Bestowed by wonder at mother nature's scene.
Feeling solace in this desert sanctuary.
These thoughts shattered by a caw, way above a raven calls.
Grasping reins held firmly in her hands.
Swaying gently in the saddle as her horse beneath her moves.
Visions blurr as sweat now glistens in the sun.
She wipes it with her shirt while running down her forehead.
Like a painting on a canvas, of a portrait burns her soul.
Nothing could detract from the beauty of it all.