Snowed Day

So Steamboat didn’t happen. They closed I-70 right after we bought chains, and closed 285 right when we’d gathered our courage to leave.

The roads are atrocious, the highways are closed, and it took so much planning and money and sub plans and my entire car packed for six people… And it’s heartbreaking.

And our Airbnb hostess tried to argue with me about going the Walden route and not refunding me.

Bitch, I’m a Taurus, and I WILL spend an hour on hold and send links to every damn CDOT warning ever made to get my money back.

So now I have a snowy weekend with this snow-loving Pomapoo, my money, and my family safe at home.

I love you snow, but you’re kind of killing me right now. Time to get out the Nordic skis.

Imaginary Waves

arriving just after dawn
trees bend in the breeze
by midday we swallow sand
the beach’s beauty tainted
a hot wind to bring a new season

I could put my hand out the window
make imaginary waves
pretend that my rhythmic motions
are wings carrying me elsewhere

instead I stare into the distance
mountains masked by haze
and wait for the moment
my moment
when wind will mean more
than bent branches
and the coming of summer

One of Those Moments

i can’t write without the wind.
i line up my alliteration
against the dustbowl afternoon,
the first time a great gale
almost forced me to the ground

it is one of those moments when
fear forces itself into my forefront
and i could forget where i’m going.
it is just me, my pedals, my perseverance,
and the dust that clings to every pore

i push on through a series of green lights
to the man i love
all the way back fifteen years, and
i tell him today (like so many other days)
of the ride i’ve had,
and in this moment
(it is one of those moments)
with the wearying wind, the look in his eyes,
i see my future lie before me


you are more than a storm
an obstinate endlessness of cold
hovering over spring
with the arrogance of winter

i wish i could tie down those flags,
see the sun shine on my skin
and roll up and down hills
without a push or a pelt

but i can match you, i can beat you.
summer will come soon enough
i will relish the bearing-down heat,
sweat seeping, laughing at our obstinacy.

April 23

i will remember
the pain starting at mile thirty-four
the wind at twenty-six
the snow at thirty-nine

i will remember
the endless rolling hills
the cloud-encrusted Pike’s Peak
the socks over my double-gloved fingers.

i will remember
the ninety-eight-degree Kentucky
the mile-long hills
the luxuriant lack of wind.

i will remember
your wide and comfy couch
your set out towel and hot shower
hot chocolate waiting for me.

i will remember
four kids playing cars
three girls dyeing eggs
muscles sore for days.

i will remember this day
thirty-three degrees
sun and snow and wind
everything blowing around in my mind.