Winter Memory

Daytime High

Arctic ice crusts the inside
length of the cabin door.
The ancient space heater sputters.
We dress quickly in the cold
seeking a hot morning meal
before venturing into magic,
the landscape of Yellowstone –

– standing lodgepoles engulfed in white
snow creaks and snaps beneath our skis
breath entwines with geyser vapor
where solid, enthroned, sun-sparkled
winter rules in unguarded splendor.

High noon, 30 below, 44 years ago.

This entry was posted in earth, national parks, Nature, Poems, wilderness, Yellowstone and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Winter Memory

  1. Monica says:

    Yes! Hi, Bluebee!

  2. beeblu says:

    Ah, that’s a wonderful breath of fresh air 🙂

  3. Monica says:

    Danke sehr, lieber Klaus

  4. kowkla123 says:

    noch nicht bitte, lasse es dir gut gehen, was auch immer das Wochenende bringt.

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