Spring Planting

ski season is done.
we’ll have to make do with yards
full of happiness.

Praise Powder

a Sunday ski day
is not equal to church time
(it's so much better)

quarantine closures
plus trapped-home anxiety
delayed this moment

yet, the smile wins
a year later, we made it
(a taste of freedom)

winter sunrise strokes
as soft as with a paintbrush
with red glow on snow

power lines define
the hidden energy here
ready to rise up

a long-shadowed pup
feels tall in the morning light
ready for the day

only two days late
the snow has taken over
(Lord, save us from drought)

aspen-lined gold runs
are what make Steamboat special
(we'll always be back)

a weekend with him
after all these years in love
sweet as fresh powder

a hellish week (year)
but we are nearing the end
and it’s so damn sweet

vaccine Valentine 
does love get any better
than this science?

i am not here now
forever staring at screens.
i am here. on skis.

The last run.

i’ll grasp this aspen 
framed by its own starry night
when i need some peace