Tag: snow

January 20

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An Afternoon at Elk

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Air is fresh and crisp, a new pair of

Bindings tightened down to ride afternoon

Corduroy and

Diamonds, squares and circles.

Enough space to spread out crowds,

Fallen flakes

Groomed into packed powder.

Hours spent on trails

In our own little worlds of

Jumping or not

Keeping up with each other or not.

Long lifts, longer runs with my hunny,

Midday sun warming bodies, softening snow

Needing to unzip and ventilate between runs

Off with the gloves and onto the lifts

Parting crowds of skiers and riders at the top

Quickly heading to where people are fewer.

Riding, turning, carving

S-turns and speed checks

Tinted goggles and tricky ice patches

Unexpected but not upsetting the flow, the fun.

Vertical of 1000′

Which isn’t a lot but the air is still

Xeric, drying exposed cheeks and chins, chapping lips

Yes we will be back

Zipping, slipping, sliding enjoying riding.

(An alphabet poem)

January 17

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Some People Just Don’t Get It

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Overnight the flakes have descended, and left a carpet of pure white.

Silent, soft and slow descends the snow.

No cloud above

No earth below

A universe of sky and snow

Snow is what it does. It falls and it stays and it goes.

The snow is deep on the ground. The snow is beautiful on the ground.

How is it that the snow amplifies the silence?

A cheer for the snow! the drifting snow!

This is the true religion, the religion of snow.

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(A cento poem featuring lines from each of the following poems:

Shoveling snow with Buddha by Billy Collins

Patterns in the Snow by Ernestine Northover

How is it that the snow by Robert Haight

Snow-flakes by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Snow by Eliza Cook

Snow by Frederick Seidel

Snow-Bound: A winter idyl by John Greenleaf Whittier

The snow is deep on the ground by Kenneth Patchen)

January 12

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Piles and Puddles

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Warm rains fall on snow without a sound

The only evidence is the silver gray mist

Rising from the lumpy grungy piles around

It’s warm out for January, sixty degrees at noon

Winter dried skin feels smooth again if only briefly

Thanks to this tropical feeling winter monsoon

Office windows open to fresh air and a humid breeze oozes in

While stale heated air escapes into the wild

The sounds of patters and splatters creating a spring-like din

No longer silently falling into piles the drops

Noisily Tumble into salty puddles cleaning the winter away

Leaving the feeling of spring at least until the rain stops.

(An imagery poem)