The Alpine Zone

A poem

As we entered
the alpine zone,
the seemingly barren world
just past the tree line,
our guide told us
that in a few weeks
these rocky mountainsides
would be adorned with
a rainbow of small blossoms:
white Diapensia,
pink Lapland Rosebay,
and the yellow Dwarf cinquefoil.

These plants
endure months of harsh winds,
cloud cover,
snow,
freezing cold,
and rain,
to blossom for just
a few weeks a year.

And I thought, damn,
isn’t that all of us these days,
clinging by our tendrils
to the mountainside.

So bloom
your little blooms
my friends,
and I will too,
and together
for a time
we’ll color the wasteland.