Past midnight in wee dark hours of the half-shaded moon
our first snow fell early, unlike the late summer storms
that came as earth was cracked, pastures bare,
harvest slow, if ever, to ripen. Green Man stayed
too long on holiday while we awaited his raindrops.
He kept our hope of emerald shoots and gleanings
at bay. Green George stayed away too long from us.
But upon his return torrents announced his arrival.
Maddened currents plowed barren fields in exultation.
The deluge roared over and under our houses.
Boulders traveled down the rush until clouds departed
east and there was stillness once more as if
Green Man never left and returned too late.
Last evening’s winter chill made a hasty call and his
tender greencoaties burrowed into slumber deep.
In the penumbral hours near the first of fall,
Green George grins under flakes of silver
powder resting upon his brow.
A friend of mine, Sharon Taylor, shared a lovely photo she took of her Green Man after our first snow. It was early this year, the snow. We usually count on snow for Halloween or a bit later. But weather patterns are different this year. Very little rain. Drought. Fires. And then came the September storms that washed much of Colorado away. I didn’t know that this is where the Green Man would take me.