Deep snow on

mountains, awe-conjurers.

Full sun blesses the ancient miracle, making

Rivers emerge from the ice.

The whiteness slips

and slides and bids the peaks goodbye.

Ten minutes later clouds like

The gods’ slate mittens return, unsatisfied,

Eros slips through Psyche’s window for a night of hidden passion,

And in the morning, the pure snow is back for a time.

But shocking blue bursts like a promise

through the clouds daily, longer and bigger,

Stabbing the heart with longing, and song.

Flowers and cherry blossoms are everywhere,

‘Tis the season for life again, like

a mob of billion-jetted young bodies piled

up outside the dance hall, impatient

clamoring for the band to get the party started.