Winter

The nights are long and the days are cold.
Powerlines fallen under the weight of snow.
Tiremarks that lead off an icy road.
Winter comes for the young and old.

Evaporation happily pulls water back up
into clouds too full already. What had
begun as a downpour quickly turns to powder
under the watchful eye of a gathering storm.

At exactly twenty-two minutes past ten
the mercury in a Farenheit thermometer
sinks below thirty-three degrees, telling
Denver what to expect and what to do.

The next sunlit afternoon leaves us
to ponder the mystery once again.
What if any justice do we find in
the chill wind and rain and fate?

Evergreens bend under the burden of snow.
And though this storm has come and gone
leaving us with a solstice both sacred and solemn
The days are cold and the nights are long.

1997