February, Driving Up Highway 49
Winter falls into the river, rushing, down rock walls, down tiny canyons, white water winding to deep green aqua. Smooth silver boulders stand, islands in green cold current, forever; rapids race the river, always ahead. Last night's snow along banks deepens, fills forests, climbs mountains, promises to fall again, promises winter is not over, promises to keep the Mystery alive.
© February 1999 Leslye Layne Russell