Staring out a glass door at Fort McDowell,
people sitting around me playing Bingo.
Mountains surge before my vision, showing
their regal majesty from God above.
Desert beauty, arid in my mind, catching
on cacti needles, poking and prodding
ingenious thoughts to lie upon a screen,
awaiting their universal purpose in a rhyme
of sorts.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem