Whispers of Horseshoe Canyon: Spring in Drumheller

Sometimes, at first glance, the world looks bleak.
Grey skies,
barren land,
a lack of colour,
a lack of life.
But to take a second glimpse,
you catch the little things.

A hush lingers, heavy as mist,
but listen—beneath the hush, a whisper.
The rustle of last year’s grass, brittle and golden,
cradling the first crocus, soft as dusk,
violet petals trembling in the wind’s embrace.

The canyon walls, ancient and weary,
bear the weight of forgotten oceans,
their layers brushed in ochre and rose,
ash and rust—
a painter’s palette forged in time,
each hue a memory pressed into stone.

To stand in the hollow of something vast,
to find beauty in the smallest breath of life,
and to know—
even in the gloomiest days,
there is always something waiting to bloom.

-Kaitlyn L. Hill