I’m putting them away
For real this time,
This last week’s trek was a bonus,
An unexpected chance
To unzip the baby-blue Gore-tex bag
And strap on the aluminum frames.
This snow was not powder,
Not the fluffy fall of sub-zero winter
But spring’s dense wet,
Perfect for walking
Ten inches above the ground,
Floating on a layer of crystalline water.
But now it’s all gone the way
That all snow goes,
Quenching the thirst of sprouting pastures,
Making muddy ruts in the road,
Only patches of white left
And too thin to hold my cleats.
So away they go into the closet,
Maybe not to be seen again
Until the Solstice after next,
This time of year
We can’t know if the moisture from the sky
Will flutter down in dancing flakes
Or patter on the rooftop
In big fat drops,
Likely now, the snow shoes
Have to take their long summer’s nap,
But maybe not.