This is Colorado poet David Mason's ode to winter celebrates all that is special about Colorado snow. Read his earlier Love Letter to Colorado in all seasons.
Snow is falling on the high plateau.
It's falling on the wilderness,
backcountry bowls of powder snow,
lighting up the air, and falling
over sand dunes and the river bend.
The quiet of it warms you like a friend.
It falls on peaks you come to know by heart,
fills the elk herd valleys, drifts
on alpine meadows and on bristlecone.
From Dinosaur to Huerfano,
snowflakes whirling like a million stars
so light you taste them on your tongue.
Sunlight on blue-shadowed snow
dazzles as you strap your snowshoes on
and find your freedom on the trail.
Or climbing the frozen waterfall —
your breath goes out in clouds.
In Colorado, winter sees you looking out
when snow is falling. You step into
your skis and lean into the thrill
of space, the powder billowing.
Your whole body sings. You feel the winter sun
touch your life in pristine air, and watch
the skiers curving down the run,
new tracks of foxes through the aspen.
Snow is flying over Red Rock Canyon.
The open fire invites you in,
the windows of the houses glowing,
and every firelit face will tell
the story of the day. It draws us close.
It's not the cold that has crept inside your skin
but a winter color you can't catch or hold,
lifting you to the snow in Colorado.
— By David Mason & Cally Conan-Davies