Clouds materialize out of snow banks like ocean spray combed back on the crest of breaking waves.
Mt. Reba's bulbous presense is lost to the jagged peaks eastward towards Ebbetts Pass. But someone at some point must have surveyed something worth naming.
Across the valley Merri tells me she occasionally can see the snow cats of Kirkwood doing their morning rounds
Mt. Mokelumne has a majestic peak, but is large deformed shoulders makes the eye wander east where cold cut crags jet into the dead pan blue sky.
in my youth i use to help herd cattle in the meadows between these far peaks.
Crows are the only birds that do not hide their presence during the winter. The call out. The boast. They look the other creatures in the eye with a confidence teetering on that of human hubris.
Morning clouds blown by high night winds stick to the side of trees from an infinite distance-
As if the moon cast white shadows in the night sky of all that is terrestrial-
Leaving it only for the eyes that wake with the sun.
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