THE PRICE
What did they pay for this rainbow spring
Here on their high plateau?
Aching lungs and the northwind’s sting
And drift upon drift of snow.
What was the price of this jade green grass
That covers their sprawling plain?
Blizzards like beasts and ice like glass
And gnawing cold and pain.
In growling winter it’s hard, it’s hard
To remember wild strewn flowers.
But with a hundred hues on their great, green spread,
They forgive the cold-bitten hours.
written 1997
