The wind whips white dresses
like sails on oceans of green grass,
suddenly it is spring
as young ladies from the red wooden schoolhouse
and pass between the mountains,
between winter and fall,
all the mayhem that sun can bring
adorns the falling curls of maidens set free.
to spring that such latitude
can swing wide the door to debtors prison
free the soul that for a spell
was etched in winter’s glass.