A Night in Death Valley
The dry desert heat wrapped me up like a comfortable blanket.
I gave the rattlesnake right next to me a fatal 158-grain lead kiss.
My eardrums painfully rang out as I walked back to the empty car.
If the sun or dehydration won’t kill you then something else gladly will.
Scavengers are always carefully watching for their next meal ticket.
Out here death is far easier than living and everything is prey.
It’s beautiful because it is nature’s most sincere yet harshest truth.
Life gets traded for life all the time but the Mojave will still goes on.
The dry desert heat wrapped me up like a comfortable blanket.
I gave the rattlesnake right next to me a fatal 158-grain lead kiss.
My eardrums painfully rang out as I walked back to the empty car.
If the sun or dehydration won’t kill you then something else gladly will.
Scavengers are always carefully watching for their next meal ticket.
Out here death is far easier than living and everything is prey.
It’s beautiful because it is nature’s most sincere yet harshest truth.
Life gets traded for life all the time but the Mojave will still goes on.
In the Valley of Death -- Miro Gabriel
Part of the Mojave desert, Death Valley is a desert area in eastern California. In the height of summertime it is one of the hottest places in the world; Furnace Creek holds the world record for the highest reliably recorded air temperature (134 °F / 56.7 °C), and five consecutive days reached 129 °F (54 °C) or above during that heat wave. On average, 192 days per year have temperatures that reach 90 °F (32 °C) or more. At 282 feet (86 m) below sea, Badwater Basin is the point of the lowest elevation in North America level, though it is only 84.6 mi (136.2 km) east-southeast of Mount Whitney, the highest point in the contiguous United States. The aboriginal Timbisha tribe call the region “tümpisa” (rock paint) because of the red ochre paint that can be made from a type of clay found in the valley. It received the name Death Valley after 13 pioneers died there on their way to California during the Gold rush of 1849.
ReplyDeleteA very fine write bud and could picture the desert as your write painted the picture perfectly .
ReplyDeleteGreat job Scott