The Back 100

I’d love to see
just
one
fleck of snow
in this wasteland
under sun’s scowl

though I do not miss
the bone chilling cold
of the upper northeast

I do miss the wonder
the tranquility
of traipsing
the back hundred acres
swaddled in white diamond glitter
beneath moons’ gentle glow
with her own sense of harmony
creating rapturous serenity

now
only
memory