Muerte de un Saguaro

For two long centuries upon the sand,
A quiet giant reaching for the sky.
The ancient, thorny keeper of the land,
Who watched a hundred burning summers die.

But time reclaims the strongest of the brave,
And age has bled his heavy body bare.
His mighty arms have dropped toward a grave,
Surrendering his spirit to the air.

Yet in his fall, he does not truly end;
His wooden skeleton becomes a space
Where hungry roots and nesting birds descend,
To build new life within his resting place.

A fallen king upon the desert floor,
He gives his life so others can have more.

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