March 30, 2014
After we endure two days of rain,
the air and ground turn white again!
Snow to end the month of March? Really?
But still, I offer you my guarantee —
something you can count on —
Spring will come! (I won’t say when.)
You can just believe me,
or stick around and wait and see.
And when new blooms have conquered snow,
I can say I told you so.
Every spring in Rochester,
my father used to say:
It always snows in April,
it sometimes snows in May.
He kept his word, with nature there,
we never proved him wrong,
and I will keep my promise, too,
that Spring will come along.
From a Czech Toast
To the children of our parents!
And to the parents of our children!
Long may they live!
Atch zhyon deti nashich rodicu!
Long lives to the children of our parents!
-courtesy of Michael Polacek
Angels Landing, Zion
When you run out of up,
you’re at the top,
nowhere to go but down.
A decision while you stop —
Back the way you came,
the known route — once rehearsed,
the same becomes different,
with vistas in reverse.
Or descend the next canyon
continuing the trail,
in search of mystery,
to find a hidden vale.
Each way has its charms.
Onward risks the great unknown.
Will I find my way?
Darkness falls, I may get left alone.
But adventure is a guide,
and my feet can reach the ground.
If I hike out and find no ride,
I’d take the long walk round.
Two paths diverge on a redrock peak,
from way up high, both ways look good.
But I can’t take them both at once.
And I can’t stay, so I must decide.