A ski bum’s lament
By Russ Criswell
Carbondale
A warm wind is blowing
Too many nights, too many sights
From too many bar stools
November and no snow
November and nowhere to go
Too many burgers, too many fries
Too much smoke in my eyes
December and no snow
December and nowhere to go
Too many starry nights
Too many sunny days
January and no snow
January and nowhere to go
A warm wind blows
Winter rain
By Greg Feinsinger
Carbondale
Disoriented.
Waxing for dirt, sage brush, and wood chips before heading to Spring Gulch.
Walking on pavement in the rain to Pine Creek Cookhouse for a holiday meal on Christmas Day.
Riding bikes on New Years Day
Confused birds, animals, and trees.
Is this the new normal?
In the land
By Kitty Riley
Carbondale
In the land
of mesas and red cliffs
of basalt and sandstone
of spires and rubble
of canyons and shadows
of scrub brush and grasses
of thorns and brief flowers
of wings and scales
of paws and hooves
The wind sings
of times distant and mountains close by
And I nestle into the arms
of Mother Earth
And turn my gaze to the face
of Father Sky