The crags are aligned as if sentries on watch,
for eons the valley below
has echoed the sounds of its weathered decay
as thanks to the looming plateau.
The pines Ponderosa, White Bristlecone, Scotch,
have lasted erosion's resolve,
while thunderstorms buffet the stoneface array,
allowing the cliffs to evolve.
Though man hasn't crowded upon this frontier,
there have been explorers who seek
awareness of nature unblemished and chaste,
when hearing of scablands' mystique.
The salt flats and boulders of sandy veneer,
surrounded by gargoyles of rock,
still wait unconcerned with its fate interlaced
with politics' unyielding clock.
Jack has published over 350 poems in his career, many with his own photography. He specializes in a view of the commonplace and Americana.