Our alpine bowl that glaciers made

From weak spots in the molten rock

Now shares the spotlight with a blade

Of grass, growing from the sudden shock


Of sun that carves a spring

As well as fissures in the snow,

Cracks that made our valley ping

All winter on this high plateau,


Summer buried with the floe,

With all its seeds of love and birth -

But today the fruits of hiding grow,

Secrets that we peel from earth,


Flowers that the waiting season yields

As mountains turn today to fields.


May 4th, October 1st and 7th, 1993

Tippet Alley

April 8th, 2005

Rue de Varenne