driving down the canyon
is like fast forwarding time
jumping through the ends
of the long mountain winter
and right into late spring
where the tulips
have already come and gone
and the lawns are ankle high
and shining green
the mountains are blooming
beneath the open sky
and the pavement is pan hot
but then coming back up
is like reaching back
a few months
into a slower going living
watching as the spring fades
to still melting snow
to just budding branches
for those who make a life
in the mountains
go at their own speed
the hermits the hippies
the high alpine columbines
and paintbrush and chamomile
move by their own time
and while the plains world reels
from the start of summer swelter
our hillsides blossom