A poem about mountains

After sunrise

Our tongues burn
from the Christmas sauce
in the best
breakfast burritos Española 
has to offer.

We four traveled
Past the black mesa,
peaks stretch across
the bright horizon,
a mountain range
like a heartbeat,
or waves of music
dipping into the
next bow stroke.

Snow, punctuated by
trails of hoof prints,
a herd of elks
trekking across the
Valles Caldera.

Back in Columbia,
I found hatch peppers
in the grocers,
And we made
enchilada bowls and
we remembered
Sledding in the
Mountains.

More snow poetry

Snow clouds wrap around the
horizon like a blanket you just
pulled from a cold linen closet
I long to see a the red splash of a
cardinal darting between snow
covered branches, diving for seeds,
before the next arctic storm
covers us in a fresh layer of snow,
gives me an excuse to join you
under the comforter and wrap
around each other.

Snow poem

I don't know if you've heard, but the Midwest had record levels of snow last weekend. I helped one of my partners dig out and I can tell you, I felt every 20 inches of those drifts. I started a poem over the snow day but was distracted by hot coco, so I never finished it.

Then I lost it! First poem I've written in 2 years and I lost it.

So I'm going to pull a Tenacious D moment and give you a poem about the greatest snow poem that ever was. It's not the poem, but a tribute.


Snow Poem
a tribute

It snowed 20" this weekend-
The Bradford Pear was laden
with the heavy weight of a
winter storm, boughs creaked
in the whip-cold wind, puffs of
white exploded and dropped heavy
to the drifts below until 20 inches
felt more like 30 inches and
the dog was lost beneath;
I know you were wishing
that the snow would finish off
that invasive tree, would snap it in
twain, but you didn't say it out loud.