It drifts in from the west

a cloud, dark and churning.

Sitting on a ridge top,

we watch its drunken steps

as it careens toward us.


Do we hunker down?

Do we run for cover?


We stay still

trusting the promise

hidden within its vapor.


From my lips escapes a prayer:

Please protect us, Beloved.


The cloud arrives

biting wind and swirling snow.

The view of the Sandia Mountains,

the Ortiz and all other landmarks

replaced by shifting gray.


Cheeks burning,

wind whistling in my ears,

I hold tight to the frigid rocks

turn my face from the gale.


But suddenly I look

straight at the snowflakes

hurling toward me,

and they sparkle

reflecting a sun I cannot see.


Thousands of shining souls

dance up and down,

rush forward and back,

a whole company of ballerinas

joining and separating

in perfect choreography.


My heart soars with them.

It lifts and twirls like a dervish

in the radiant effervescence of love.


The wind calms.

The tail end of the cloud

blows past.

A few sparkles

kick up their heels

in an encore

and then disappear,

leaving my heart full

open to any and all

experience that may come.

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