Snow grows where yellow leaves fall,
to the heights of skunk cabbage
along winding mountain trails.
Wind blowing in a ravage,
the trees dance inside it all.
Through thick sheets of hardened ice
spring blades of defiant green,
a bluebird sky’s beckoning.
From the ache of such stillness
to the pain of new movement,
the song of Nature prevails.
Sunflowers salute the sun,
the columbines spread their wings,
fairy trumpets play the notes,
crescendo of the chorus.
Until a snap of cold boasts,
brings about remembering,
time to return home again.
The sparkle and the glitter,
final show of aspen groves,
like fireflies in the sky,
paper lanterns in the night.
Nature takes us to ourselves,
cyclical coda ringing,
hearts that beat in unity.
Swamps to Mountains 