A Cliff Dwelling

There sandy seems the golden sky

And golden seems the sandy plain.

No habitation meets the eye

Unless in the horizon rim,

Some halfway up the limestone wall,

That spot of black is not a stain

Or shadow, but a cavern hole,

Where someone used to climb and crawl

To rest from his besetting fears.

I see the callus on his soul

The disappearing last of him

And of his race starvation slim,

Oh years ago -- ten thousand years.