Past the icicle-studded windowpane,
I scan the horizon for peaks, in vain.
A poor excuse for a blizzard blinds me
to the sun’s green light through leaves, hides the lane.
A cottony arboretum, sour grapes,
look even less like desert in the rain.
Beyond the pale aura of winter snow,
lies rugged land across the western plain.
Back on my pillow, saguaros beckon,
my idyll in the land of counterpane.
Stretching, like a sleeping azure feline
the Catalina mountains call my name.
The cover photo was taken in Carefree AZ on a rare snow day last year. This is our view here in Virginia.