There are no palm trees here, on the foothills,
only pines growing slowly. She too is
growing here, a destiny that is still
just with in her grasp, beyond the next ridge.
Heading out west, across lonely highways,
for the strange peace of Larimer county;
Fort Collins; planting deep her roots, each day
and by night dying just as happily;
Colorado, America; the one
safe place on earth.  As winter comes alive
the sleet stings my Father, ‘Mother is gone’,
freezing his skin as he reads her good-bye;
never able to understand her dreams,
why she would dance the snow from white to green.


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