The Art of Seeing Spring Through Snow



Flowers have spread masses of colors

in the fields and yards of warmer states.

In Colorado, through swelling buds on tree

branches overhead small Crocus stems,

spring  whispers  “I am here.”


Grass begs to grow through snow,

fighting white patches with defiant

undergrowth which refuses to die.

Tiny yellow composites and dandelions peek out.


Larger pines, their branches

wrapped in casts

sag under the weight.


The mountains makes jagged sharks tooth mosaics

of mud, snow and wind bent pines.

It is a rugged male beauty, devoid of feminine

green curves, splashes of blue Lupine

yellow Mustard and red Indian Paintbrush

of the California Chaparral.


Yet the sky tells a different story

Every evening

It can be dark silver, pregnant with rain,

or a pink pearl sunset on purple silk

fringed with orange.

The blue of an evening lake turns pottery

black in its glaze with a hint of turquoise.

The sky almost matches.


When the gentle snow flurries along,

everything blends into white: Sky, water, earth.

Within the day the storm melts into brown

and further into afternoon heat

to snow heavily two days later.


Such are the moods of the season:

Tranquil blue, passionate orange,

white, gentle and soft

as a perfect snowflake on a navy coat.


Life constantly grows despite patches of cold.

The area remains strong through change:

an area which breathes deeper into thin air,

remains wild in the scarcity of new blooms.




~ by dianeklammer on March 28, 2013.

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