Highway to Bisti

We left the mountains
as the snow began.
Driving south,
the golden cottonwoods
against variegated gray clouds
shone
vibrant as a freshly painted
oil canvas.
But somewhere in the Bisti,
the sky turned itself
inside out.
Storm clouds’ menacing pall
now rendered pale and opalescent
as mother-of-pearl.
In a treeless plain,
light edged clouds with gold foil,
standing in
for the dazzling cottonwoods.

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