Just Like the Morning

Snow has fallen
on yesterday’s
belief of spring,

yet the morning branches
still echo
with winter’s

pent up birdsong.
Life, even
in its familiarity,

offers itself anew
each moment.  Perhaps,
you are so startled

by the light and shadow
on the bedroom walls
that you take a picture

as you linger
in the pillows
for just a little longer.

Perhaps,
you are startled
that everything is dissolving

into beauty,
again and again,
like the words

you finally noticed
in the song you’ve played
one thousand times.

Driving Between

Stop to notice a
curve in the road –
my mountains ahead,

your mountains behind –
both ranges clear,
defined,

and upward
reaching.   Marvel
these Rockies

that grow even now
beneath February
snow melting

to river – white heights
clear, attainable,
and utterly

wide open
against the bluest
Colorado sky.

Inside, Out

This is the season for rivers,
swollen and rambling,
the time for roses

pink and wild,
for sagebrush,
and the air

pungent with beginning.  It is
the afternoon
of the chipmunk scrambling

and the raincloud
raining, the hour
for the resting of muddy shoes

and perhaps,
for napping.  Today
is making the space for noticing,

and in noticing,
finding the spaces
for love.