Storms in the Uncompahgre

Summer bleeds a scab of green
onto the valleys below
the rocky ridges. Minerals corrupt
glacial waters, stagnating
into a magnificent blue.
You came for the skies that reflect
on the paper pleated dresses
of the columbine. Snowcaps standing
behind, looming in last night’s
tuxedos. The smear of lipstick
on a lapel is called cardinal red.
The indian paintbrush proof
of a prurient embrace. Apathetic mountain.
Freezing rain arrives swiftly, pinging
hail sideways off your face, yet you
returned. I want to be just as
unpretentious, my love. Would you
come back to climb me?