Steamboat Springs

A cruel knife sliced up the time
and I was lost between the molecules of days
I know what lives within those empty spaces
I do know those variegated streams
that swirl and play and roar through dreams
The grainy stuff of life
A black stained road
A colored mist
Thin cotton curtains on the flyspecked window pane
A mountain aster in the early morning rain
Long ago I saw that very flower
Wild in a well of painted dreams  

 

South of Steamboat Springs in Early Afternoon

South of Steamboat Springs in LateAfternoon