http://www.ahandfulofstones.com/
Look for my poem on a handful of stones blog, under Thursday, September 30th, 2010.
Colorado's seasons are like a woman who changes her mind, changes her clothes and her perfume. Fall in Colorado to me is dusty dirt roads lined five feet deep on either side with wild sunflowers. It's hot and the air is filled with insects. Noisy and quiet at the same time. The sunflowers take over the eastern plains and front range, just east of the mountains.
Fall in the mountains is different - crisper, clear, filled with bugling elk and city people driving slow on the winding roads, craning their necks to see turning leaves.
In the San Juans, Fall is enough to give an atheist religion. Overcast sky: then a break in the clouds - a single beam of light hits a grove of Quaking Aspen like a spotlight in the theater; each leaf lights up, brilliant as a new doubloon, giving the sun back to the world a thousandfold.
ReplyDelete