Springtime on the Rockpile

2018-03-22 06:39:35.000 – Bill Ofsiany, Summit Volunteer

 

Spring on the Rockpile is fickle,

With high warm sun and bright snow,

But the cold strong winds of winter are here,

That push windchills to twenty below.

 

It seems that whoever makes weather,

Isn’t sure which direction to go,

Some days are calm, warm and sunny,

Just as often there’s low temps and snow.

 

But those days get fewer and fewer,

And winter ice gets transformed into slush,

And rivers of meltwater flow down the trails,

Turning bare spots to bootsucking mush.

 

The cold is still in control here,

Those wet days freeze up without sun,

Turning snowfields back to glare ice, that’s smooth,

Spring advances up here are hard won.

 

March comes in like a lion,

Like it does in the towns nearby,

But here at the top, it goes out that way too,

‘Cause we’re a mile high up in the sky.

 

The Snowcat gets parked, higher up each week,

As spring moves up high, where it’s steep,

And the road crew works on the Cragway Drift,

Where the snow can be twenty feet deep.

 

Soon all will be back in summer mode;

The crowds, the bugs, and the heat,

And we’ll miss the bite of the wind on our cheek,

And the ice crunching under our feet.

 

Bill Ofsiany, Summit Volunteer

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