Photo courtesy of Natasha Stanton Sierra Hot Springs

A fine day that no word can diminish.

Slowly unfurling, creatures emerge from storm battered shelters,

Faces upturned toward sun’s unfiltered warmth melt into innocence.

The River has delivered her ultimatum, yet without malice

Slips quietly from the unimaginable to resume the ancient course.

Shop doors flung wide greet Sunday strollers, stretching their legs, meeting no strangers,

For all have weathered the storm and all have tales to tell:

Of digging

Of plowing

Of fortitude

Of heroes

We are mountain people,

Battered yet immutable, is our faith that Spring will follow,

One fine day.