I
today I realized not everything is brown.
if you look
not glance
the foothills are sage
just the kind that’s still being kept a secret
II
"everything is dead,
it’s nothing but a sheet of grey"
but that’s not strictly true is it?
the scrub brush is whispering about the undertones of moss
and their cerulean veins are waiting to be scratched free
of its warm, dusty bark
III
one of the best parts about living in colorado is that conifer trees never lose their leaves
those evergreen forests holding their name sake and keeping us company through the cold months
but the day after it snows when the sky clears
and before the sun comes back to melt it all off
the tiny little alpine needles become illustrious
a color that doesn’t exist on its own,
tiny little drops of magic winking in the light
the combination of elements
alchemy
IV
snow on the flatirons is a different kind of gift
it shifts our far fetched auburn vistas into a different climate
we somehow leave the high desert and travel into a wonderland
perhaps one where yule festivals are held year round
where the tinkling of bells and 12 point stags trapse through the woods
suddenly we have that life giving moisture
ready to melt its way into our streams and springs as the sun warms it away.
the way the landscape reaches for new paints, a new palette
matching the temperature of the sky
refreshes me
makes it feel like this place is new.
and being somewhere new means i’m not taking it for granted again
i can stay
just a little longer