The storm came through
Like a drunken step-dad
Chilling everyone it spied
Cowering and huddled away
From windows and doors
Waiting for the torrent
To pass staying calm
And now as storms
Often do it’s sunny
The lid of clouds
Removed and what little
Heat that remained escapes
Like the aroma of
My grandmother’s chicken soup
Taken off the boil
I dreamt last night
Of dying me specifically
It alarmed me to
The point of waking
I myself am not
Yet dying but a
Part of me is
And that I’m certain
Whichever part it is
Is no longer needed
Soon to be abandoned
Like a kerchief after
A cold like a
Tear once upon laughter
And perhaps an overcoat
Once my spring arrives
The eastern Rockies sky
Looks like its west
A cloud bank stretches
From pane to pane
Atop which hovers delicately
Foamy white like icing
A few loose strands
Like almost invisible threads
Or perhaps even lint
Or shedded dog hair
Comes and goes as
Quickly and with little
Desire of staying like
Visitors to a hospital
And now as the
Sun makes its appearance
Low and deep all
Of it turns crimson
On this the twenty-first
Of December in Denver
And through my window
On a cold Rocky
Mountain morning I witness
The sky’s chagrin bright
Pink clouds blush from
Compliments a backdrop for
Naked trees standing shivering
Oh and now the
Previously shy sky erupts
With white and blue
During this my first
Dawn in the Rockies
It is truly amazing
How something as simple
As a cold can
Reduce even the mightiest
The confident and articulate
Into nothing more than
A mewing sniffing toddler
Crawling under the covers
And asking for mommy
This is what I
Think when they say
Even the old will
Turn into young again
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 