Curtains of rain a hundred miles long
billow
under a level gray valance
of clouds.
Blown by a cold west wind they
reveal
and conceal
wrinkled mountains
stark under fresh snow.
I am made dizzy
by migrating streaks of sunlight
Swooping across the foothills
Until
my view is obscured
by a flurry
which could be snow
or the first blossoms
of foolhardy apples
lost to the wild wind.
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