HOMECOMING
late spring snow
dresses the roadside
tiny piles of powder
sparkle beside the pond
sprinkled by a hidden hand
tucked in crevices, peeking
like the fringe
of a dainty slip at your knees
frosted tree tips
smile silently
We dressed up for you.
©draft, Patricia J. Franz
I experience what I call seasonal whiplash every year when I migrate from desert to mountains in spring.
In Arizona, spring comes in mid-February and by the end of April, we often see 100-degree days! This week, as I drove west and north, the temperatures steadily dropped.
The mountains welcomed me with snow flurries over the passes and a beautiful blanket of white. Along my driveway, daffodils were pushing through an inch of powder.
In a week or so, mule ear will return to the forest floor. The fragrance of decaying pine and wet earth will accompany my forays to the reservoir. I will re-live spring, and a proper summer here in the Sierras.
So please enjoy my homecoming poem and then visit Rose at Imagine the Possibilities and all the other wonderful Poetry Friday offerings!
Patricia Franz is a kidlit writer and published poet. She believes children, dogs, and sourdough have a lot to teach us about life, joy, and wonder. She has raised two boys, four dogs, and holds a master’s degree in Theology with a focus on children’s spirituality. Patricia, her husband, her Bernese Mountain dog, Bonny, and her sourdough starter split their time between the Arizona desert and the Sierra Nevada mountains. 
Your spring snow metaphor is styled nicely, Patricia.
“the fringe of a dainty slip at your knees” – reminds me of my mother who held firmly to the notion that every dress needs to be worn with a slip. Enjoy your Sierra spring/summer. I look forward to the poetry that your change of scenery will inspire. 🙂
My mom was the same way! Slips and HOSIERY! lol – Thank you, Bridget!
Even your prose reads like poetry! You truly have a poet’s heart, Patricia. I love the metaphor of “dressing,” especially the slip peeking out.
Thank you, Rose! And thank you again for hosting the roundup!
The dainty slip makes me think you are an old soul finding solace in the cooler mountain air. Just lovely and refreshing. In Louisiana our temps are already rising into the 90s.
And the older I get, the more I need it!
btw– I married a man from PA and I never understood how people survive humidity!
I love when travel gives us multiple versions of the same season. We got to experience multiple falls last year, driving from Ohio to Vermont and back. Every degree of latitude makes a difference! Have you read Barbara Kingsolver’s PRODIGAL SUMMER? I love her description of the way spring travels up a mountain.
I have not read that one; I’ve enjoyed a few of her other novels. I will go download that one for later this spring (you know… the third spring…it comes after the next snow we likely will see before Father’s Day! -lol)
So lovely, Patricia!!! Beautiful images and I love that dainty slip!! Two springs — lucky you. Thanks for helping us visualize what it’s like in your part of the world.
Thank you, Jama! Looking forward to mountain-scapes for a bit.
So many great images in this poem. I do love the fringe of a dainty slip.
Don’t we all?? There’s so much story in slips!
Count me among the “my mother always insisted on a slip” crowd. I still wear one with most dresses. ;0) Beautiful poem, along with your appreciation for the seasonal variances in your home-sweet-homes.
clearly, alot of us are the same age!
Wow! I love-love-love your art!!! And yes, I remember “the fringe/of a dainty slip at your knees” — a perfect image for this poem!
Thank you, Anastasia. I try to use my own photos from my phone and then I have a fave filter I run them through.
What a perfect metaphor. Thank you for the glimpse into your two springs.
You’re welcome, Sally! Yes, TWO springs! Such a gift!
How lucky to be able to live in two places! When you are not in one of the other, is someone elsed housed there? We are thinking of trying to spend half each year here and half in England where my spouse’s family is, but I don’t like the idea of leaving an empty house when so many are homeless, and also for climate reasons…
I also smiled at the trees’ frosted tips. I spent quite a few hours with a crochet hook pulling strand of my mom’s hair through a frosting cap! Lovely compact poem!