not every winter
graced us white
but when it did
all would play
those days when
blanketed snow
the city would
close its doors
inner tubes and
trash bag sleds
down the canyon
slopes laughing
Ponderosa and
Piñon Pine scented
startling blue mountain
skies smile.
maysa-maria peterson
“If you can see your path laid out in front of you step by step, you know it’s not your path. Your own path you make with every step you take. That’s why it’s your path.” ― Joseph Campbell
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"The time has come," the Walrus said, "to talk of many things." Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking Glass
For some reason I have been really enjoying your poems which relate to the past. Perhaps it is because they tell a story and take one away from reality. Keep it up, you are filled with memories! love,Mom
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