The Desert

The Desert
As we rode through the desert
This thought occurred to me
Why so much wasted land
Without even a tree.
The desert is so quiet and still,
It’s like a graveyard to me,
With its graves of drifted sand
As far as you can see.
There’s a few lovely cacti there
With whirl winds dancing by.
They’re the tombstones of the desert
Reaching for the sky.
Why God made the desert
I’ll never understand,
But there must be a reason
For that seemingly wasted land.