The rain has rolled in
on top of the pass the sky is white and trees
ready for lights, I have made tea now
at home in big socks, am I
rushing into this?
Batten the windows, I am finding any reason
to smile and soon my soles
will not touch soil, buzzing
like long lost love and how sweet
again and again that shall be.
We are all turning in,
each mountain looms close now,
breathing thick air slowly
over the wet pines,
we watch from below, breath melting
up to the clouds,
giving heavy huffs,
for good grief,
before buzzing coldly along.
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