Slowly growing higher and deeper
Till she is nearly buried
Under a burning layer of white fire.
Even though wind and time
Have robbed her chiseled face of beauty,
She sits upon stone haunches,
Ageless and unmoving,
Her weather-beaten face alive
With the wisdom of years,
Her sightless eyes surveying
The beautiful desert world
That spreads outward from beneath
Her powerful resting paws.
Her feline shape crouches silent.
Waiting.
--Sarah W., 9th-12th Grade.