It’s here – and it’s gone.
Blink and you’ll miss it.
That’s what it means to be ephemeral…like the temporary local yarnbombing this March. I nearly missed it myself – I didn’t hear about it until about a week and a half ago, and since then the weather has been dreary and drippy and soggy more days than not. So I spent a little while this morning taking pictures for the current WordPress photo challenge, before the clock loses its hat and scarf and the knitted benches and the pompomed fence v a n i s h.
(A belated and close-to-home response to last week’s Where’s My Backpack travel theme.)
Three months now, and its been so cold.
So much cold. We’re tired of cold.
Spring should come soon, or so we’re told
But it’s still cold. We’re tired of cold.
But maybe there’s hope, at last, today.
Flowers are a good sign, they say,
Though crocuses bloom even when it’s cold.
March, Coming In
Silent lion shakes
His mane – scatters whiteness and
Strangeness, beauty, change.
Three weeks from now, we should see
Lamblike, fluffy, white – wait. No more!
Posted in Poems, Winter
Mostly because I happened across this photo and was surprised at how stylized it looks, without any editing whatsoever.
Rockies, eastern edge of Glacier Park, July 2014