An Afternoon on Hurricane Ridge
Sweet is the taste of alpine fir
Crisp with the crunch of ice
Fluffy the gray jay and raven
And unsolicited advice,
Bright are the rainbow sparkles
In a golden shaft of light
Cast by scattered snow
Crystals that were never white,
Proud is the wind that sweeps
Over ridges and meadows steep
Sculptor of tree and snow
The secrets of its art it keeps.
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