The Great American Desert

A vast, forbidding wasteland stretches
From sea to stagnant sea,
A parched, cracked, and arid continuous beige,
Unwelcoming and unforgiving.
Sure, there are puddles here and there--
Some wadis, some mud-and-sand oases--
But on the whole there's no relief.
The denizens, who live in clefts,
In trenches, and in dismal holes,
Exhibit exoskeletal traits;
They're self-contained, and wear with pride
Their horny scales and tortoise shells,
And like the scorpion, wave their stingers
At every passing quadruped.
Should you wish to traverse this blight,
Take care to sheathe yourself in leather,
Neck to ankles, plus sturdy boots,
To fend off fangs and venomous pricks.