and post notes and photos about your poem like Sandra Haight.
That summer, back in 'ninety-five,
to Colorado Springs we flew
to visit grandkids and take in
exciting places there to view.
One day to Pike's Peak we set off;
some twenty miles, long and slow,
the winding road was treacherous
with open sides, sheer cliffs below.
The peak tops fourteen-thousand feet;
temp at the base, ninety degrees.
But, at the crest in colder air
a blizzard whirled within the breeze.
With flimsy jackets, not prepared,
we like the rest, ran to the store
to purchase warmer, Pike's Peak gear
to wear, remind us evermore
how changes, fourteen-thousand feet,
transfigured the peak's atmosphere.
We'll not forget the summer snow
that coated us in June that year.
Sandra M. Haight
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Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2018
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