Call this land beautiful if you wish
but do not expect to be flattered in return.
Badlands is a capricious mistress
accustomed to betrayal and to whim.
Dead stillness and white calm
with no warning and less regard
to hot wind and stinging silt
blinding those who stare too long,
by sunset’s mirror.
The lines of age are never earned
and most often hide secrets
best left as silent regret.
The wind knows everything
And is indifferent.
Badlands I by Diane Weddington