Evelyn Judy Buehler

March 18, 1953 - Chicago
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The very fact of being alive, often causes one to seek adventure;
And sometimes it is no deterrent, when it carries traces of danger.

I was not a seasoned survivalist, but very much loved the outdoors,
Like varicolored flowers of summer, that are theirs mine and yours!

The red robins enthralled me, chanting down the brass sunny days,
In the way of the wild and free ones, adapted to their warm ways.

My friends were very like me, for we had many matching interests,
As the moon lends its silver rays, when the sun's are extinguished!

The day of destiny will come, often when we're expecting it least,
Like so many long days of defeat, leading to the celebratory feast.

It occurred on one Saturday, we rented our cabin in the mountains,
And we decided to hike all the way, as birds dart into fountains.

So we loaded up our backpacks, stuffed with food and critical gear,
Like monsoons bringing critical rain, and returning year after year!

The weather was clear and warm, in hot summer's red orange end days.
We set out gaily in optimism, like bluejays flying sunshine glazed.

We walked the trail in laughter, and we were having so much fun,
Like a flower opening its petals, to get a first look at gold sun!

But after a couple of hours, the sky above us commenced darkening,
Like a dark frown upon the face, of one whose heart is hardening.

Then a precipitate blizzard struck, which took us all by surprise,
As when your ship finally comes in, and shock stays in your eyes!

The flurries came down so heavily, that very soon we could not see,
And in my disorientation, I noticed my friends weren't behind me!

I would later learn they'd huddled together, waiting out the storm,
Then followed the trail back homewards, where they could be warm.

Lost and alone in the swirling whiteness, and I was growing colder;
Like the pond that freezes into ice, when winter is getting older.

I wandered about growing numb, when a voice came out of the snow,
Saying to be patient, it would guide me, it knew just where to go!

I asked who it was that was speaking, yet I knew it was no mortal,
Like a rush to answer the doorbell, finding magic at the portal.

The voice informed me that she was Snow, dwelling in colder climes,
And her kingdom had been amidst icicles, since distant olden times.

She said she could help me, just to follow the sound of her voice,
As in lush teeming gardens, ample beauty has robbed you of choice!

So I followed the sound of Snow, through a cold blinding whirlwind,
On the strange madcap escapade, occurring one long dizzying weekend.

Later I bumped into something solid, and Snow said to open the door,
So that is what I did, before falling prostrate on the cabin floor.

The small cabin had a bed, shelf food, a heater and a stack of logs.
With matches from my backpack, I made a fire and roasted hot dogs.

I thanked Snow for saving my life, a new start on an old friendship,
Like the ones you are having, while experiencing a certain kinship.

Since Snow seemed to be all about, I could hear her through the walls;
And we had an interesting dialogue, in the wake of summer's footfalls.

She said her ways were all kindness, but were so often misunderstood,
Like the intervention of some mishap, when you had set out to do good.

She said she enjoyed gay laughter, and merry children making snowmen,
And eager skiing down some mountainside, and sledders now and again!

We conversed well into the evening, while I enjoyed tea and cookies,
Like the wandering violet butterfly, requesting nectar if you please!

We talked of snowball fights and igloos, and skating once she freezes,
Like thousands of colorful kites, riding on cornsilk summery breezes.

We talked of autumn fire comfort, and what makes them feel so nice,
And of roasting delicious marshmallows, in seasons of fire and ice.

Snow said she was not so different, from a sunshine that could burn,
Through some accidental occurrence, when destiny takes a wrong turn!

She spoke of sadness through the ice ages, and frustrated creativity,
Out of balance with the distant sun, both of them locked in captivity.

Scarlet sun lit the cabin walls, for the wild blizzard had departed,
And I had grown drowsy and dreamy, as the sun went down brokenhearted!

I awoke to birdsong and its gay return, but lovely Snow was now silent,
Like trouble that comes and goes quickly, and you wonder where it went!
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