We walk together through the valley,
quiet winter colors around us,
lime and rust cedars dot pale marsh grass
under slate and linen clouds.
On the slate road, ash bark with a pale green lichen corsage
has fallen for you.
To the east, sumac vines tint a dry blue sky.
I pick up an ice candy dish and drop it,
you protest as it falls.
Uphill, there are needle crystals in the roadside.
Dirty and pretty, they clack like wood.
Two burros come out of the steep shadow as we go by,
you say maybe they are getting to know us.
In a headwind, we walk quickly home to warm up.
We wonder about colonists,
who were too hungry and cold to go for a walk,
or to imagine us.
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