Heavy, cold creeks throw off the weight of winter
Spring tumbles and tears at the air
It swirls and thunders and
Smacks hard on slick stone
Worn down by the pattern of years

It's hard to look down when
Light lies across the high ridge
It's hard to look up when shooting stars
Lift their heads from the meadows
It's easy to feel small in a land of giants

Summer opens the high grasses, and a
Visual song of color speckles the trailsides
Scents muffled for months by snowcover
Lift easily in the breeze, and slide over
Smooth stone shining under an early sun

Higher still, a granite ocean shapes the wind, and
Clouds, like heavy comforters, fold across the
Shoulders of old, red mountains. Soon enough
Autumn colors shift and shimmer in the crisp air
An encore before winter's curtain falls

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