The Harmony Borax Works, Death Vally, California Poem by Carole Moran

A white expanse of hill and plain
Where once a mighty lake had lain.
Frosted with the milky ore
Our forebears mined in days of yore.

Now festered with the creeping mites
Of tourists walking in dim lights,
Passing knowledge, seconds old,
To prancing children. Tales of gold

And other wealth not lightly found
And dug in labor from the ground.
The ruins still stand in stately grace
Amid the desert's ravaged face.