The dullness of the landscape consoles

 

I traveled through Taylor Canyon one evening
     not long ago, late-blooming rabbitbrush aglow,
          willows textured in bold shades of red and gold.

And now, before heavy snow, after freezing nights,
     the canyon, meadows, mountains, and sky
          merge into hues of drab tans and vague  blues.

I’m tired of myself, dramamine queen 
     of this interregnum, languid as a wasp
          on the frozen windowpane.

 But the dullness of the landscape consoles me,
          the monotony a respite from trying too hard
               to enliven my diminished life.

I think I’ll stay still for a while,
      hoping I’ll remember the bright canyon
              trusting I’ll be ready for the coming season.