Snow on Cedar Mountain

There is snow upon the mountains

All the piñon pines are white
Covered over by the flurries
That passed overhead last night

Just a fragment of a storm cloud

Is left drifting in the sky
Leaving spangled spots of shadow
On the ruddy rocks nearby

This open fragrant landscape

Ever changing always new
Is far older as a token
Of our own red, white and blue

Far away from gilded chambers

In the buildings of the great
I prefer the sage and cedar
To the decorated state