the reservoir of crispy cold wind flutters

like dandelion seed flitting through the air

a musical breeze begins to roar

spreading white sheets across her rocky skirts

she lifts her hem expecting a manicure 

to tend her granite toes

blustery snapping air

moves her avalanche of rushing pale freeze

she reveals the depth of her white demise

flashes to horror and imminent stop

no sycamore water lily or animal

vanished with the valley 

the mountain shrugs

settles her skirts once again

sits upon her quartz throne

for another day of wind