January

The best of flowers are frail. The clearest light Will fade and fail and fall before the night. Even the humming bird will rest from flight. And all will start again.

The beautiful round Of light and dark, of seed and bloom, Of silence, sound. The earth's great room Is filled with all the shivering fact of things: Sand blowing off of stone. Winter with folded wings. - Sylvia Lewis Kinney

ROADRUNNER

Desert-jester, run, run, run Write your autograph in the sun.

Hop, hop, hop... Look, look, look Study the desert like a book.

With eager pace and tail held high No one knows where you go or why.

WESTWARD RIVER

I lived in the ocean and rode with the tide. I searched for a glimpse of a star, Till a cloud picked me up, and a wind current wide Swept me shoreward then inland afar.

It turned me to snow. I fell white on the hills. It was all like a fanciful dream. The sun turned me back into bright little rills And refashioned me into a stream.

On the floor of a canyon I threaded my way On and on to a desert and plain, And here I am now like a ribbon of spray Going back to the ocean again.

JUDGMENT RESERVED

How shall I gauge the strength of wind, Its weight, its worth? By tree storm-pinned To earth, or by one leaf that rides The tortured air unmarred and glides Back home? By count of ravaged places In aftermath, or myriad faces Smiling salute? I am not wise Enough to see through all men's eyes.

CRESCENT MOON IN WINTER

Frozen Inside the smooth Black ice of Night's wide pond One curved white petal of what was A water-lily moon.

DESERT GARB

The desert sleeps through winter days Wrapped in somber brown But when she wakes in springtime She dons a floral gown.

DESERT NIGHT

Rise, slow-paced moon And sweep the sky Of all the desert heat. Come welcome wind and Whisper, a lullaby To all the scurrying feet Of each small creature. And let the night, then, Pattern, a quilt of stars For all those who would sleep.

CINQUAIN

Winter Branches crochet Against gray puritan Skies a pattern of somber dark Brown lace.

MORE REWARDING THAN GREECE:

My wife and I have recently returned from a trip to the West one for which the itinerary was modified: We spent a couple of extra days in Arizona after reading back issues of your magazine loaned by a friend.

It was a good decision and I thought you might be interested in my wife's comment on Arizona, "It was more rewarding than my trip to Greece!"

GOING TO SCHOOL:

When I finish reading and looking at ARIZONA HIGHWAYS, I send the copies to a neice in Chicago, Illinois, who teaches second grade on the south side. When the January and February copies arrived, one youngster said to her, "Mrs. Lee, where is that place? In Heaven?" He couldn't imagine such beauty on earth.

I thought you might enjoy knowing the magazine brings joy to some youngsters many miles away. We have framed several pictures from the magazine and have them in our home.

HOME AWAY FROM HOME:

Whilst living and studying in Iowa, a dear American friend, Dr. Guy Romano, introduced my husband and I to your fascinating state through the medium of ARIZONA HIGHWAYS, copies of which we have brought back to Africa with us.

Before returning home we were determined to see Arizona. The friendliness of the people we met, and the wonderful wide open spaces and scenic beauty reminded us so much of our own Southern Africa. We immediately fell in love with Arizona the only place which we feel we could make 'our home away from home' if we were ever to leave this Continent. Of all the numerous states and places of interest which we toured and visited before our departure last year, Arizona and Grand Canyon were definitely the highlights.

So many of our friends here have enjoyed and remarked on your magazine, that we have decided to subscribe to ARIZONA HIGHWAYS. It will be placed in my husband's reception/waiting room for so many others to enjoy, and no less marvel at the unbelievable beauty of the desert.

We personally shall never forget your land and its peoples, and hope one day to return for a prolonged visit.

P.S. Incidently, sanctions against Rhodesia (one of the few remaining sane countries on this restless Continent) do not appear to include magazines, as our newsstands are just as 'flooded' as before with British periodicals, etc., hence I have taken the liberty of enclosing the five dollars for the subscription.

FROM A READER IN ENGLAND:

Thanks to a kind English-turned-American relation we receive your monthly copies of ARIZONA HIGHWAYS. All are studied enthusiastically by each of our family, but more, perhaps, by myself who four years ago was lucky enough to be in what I consider one of the most beautiful states of America.

It is amusing to look at your excellent photographs of some of the places I have visited, but it is maddening and frustrating to realize the many I missed. However, there is only one remedy for this and I would like to do it as soon as possible!

FROM FAR AWAY INDIA:

As a Fulbright scholar I was a student at the University of Arizona and had the opportunity of visiting many of your scenic wonders. This year we have the good fortune of receiving ARIZONA HIGHWAYS through the generosity of friends, the Whitacres of Tucson.

We, our neighbors and friends, enjoy the beautiful pictures of your magazine. As for me, they fill me with nostalgia and happiness.

We all want to congratulate you on your extraordinarily beautiful magazine and thank you and the Whitacres for enabling us, at more than 10,000 miles, to have glimpses of Arizona's colorful scenery.

"INTO TOMORROW" BY ESTHER HENDERSON. This is Everyman. He has embarked on a long journey to an unknown destination; he carries his own burden and he is essentially alone. He chooses his path, he estimates the cost of the journey, he determines the value of the goal. The road is not always bright, and in his darkest hour he will think: "I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills..." For the tired wayfarer, tomorrow will come!

"WINTER WANES" BY ESTHER HENDERSON. Bryce Canyon National Park, Utah. Strands of dead grass poke through a late snowbank, and a sense of spring, more felt than seen, slips softly, silently, into the consciousness. No birds sing, no flowers bloom as yet but the Voice of the Turtle can be heard by the listening heart. As happens with many of the formidable canyons of the Southwest, a robe of snow accents and makes more vivid Bryce Canyon's extravagantly rich coloring. The touch of winter adds to canyon's beauty.