Sharp peaks jab the sky
dark pines wear thick coats of snow
blue skies over all
Sierra Nevadas
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Sharp peaks jab the sky
dark pines wear thick coats of snow
blue skies over all
Door blocked by drifts, wind
knocks me back. Cold smack of snow
shouts Stay inside, fool.
Four-wheel ballet, cars
spin swirl glide across four lanes
trying to get home
No caveman struggle
to keep warm. Just a cozy
Sunday ritual.
So light, delicate.
But under its weight trees crack.
Roofs collapse. Hearts fail.
The heavens open,
the earth a new firmament
dusted by cold stars.
Thirty miles away
there’s sunshine. But in the Snow
Belt, it’s two feet deep.
Sodden ground swampy
a mash of leaves, plants, flowers
once distinct, now soup.
Summer is golden
butterscotch, January
skim milk, thin weak pale.
Forgotten summer
umbrella aged by winter’s
wig of heavy snow.