In a winter village where Indians once gathered acorns
a wind whipped summit station saw trains pass under four seasons.
Above the desert, snuggled in the south tip of the Sierras
powerful hearts lift buildings from one town to another
only to later see them burn in fire and smother under water.
The many deaths by White Wolf brought cries to a devastated people
as the earth ripped apart and caves coughed dust.
Dimmed light in sunken tunnels still illuminated possibilities.
The Loop and windmills on the hillsides, our future.
We see our mountains fill with colorful wildflowers,
a botanical garden waves to wine grapes on the vine.
Cemented marvels raise a dam and flowing waters fill an aqueduct
in far away places that won’t give us a second thought.
We remain alone, surrounded by our love for the mountains.
A man fights vigorously to help others who sweat in a cheating labor.
Artists create passionately here, for their muse is magnificent.
An actor finds peace, a singer tells a story and a writer believes.
With more hills to climb, spirituality embraces our community.
This is what it means to live in Tehachapi