for Sara Eliza Johnson

Before personal computers
and iphones,
White-out concealed
literary debris like this
wallowing in Spring mud.

After the shortest snow season
in 84 years,
today’s wasted white
betrays unkept promises.

Sliding on roadways,
Blizzaks and studs swapped
for summer tires,
we cling to old memories
splashing through break-up.

Select prior season:

2013:

Today’s snow teases
Trails steeped with yesterday’s warmth
No glide anywhere.

2014: 

Smith Lake still frozen
Holds ski possibilities
Atop uncertain ice.