Tuesday, February 17, 2015

the overlook

no sight out of right
eye, my breath having
first fogged, second moistened
and last froze it, behind
navy blue bandanna tied cross my lips,
out and up four thousand feet
above the old forest, still
between twisted trees,
wind whipped, howled,
trunks and roots creaking
sixty mile per hour gusts
32 below, trail runs to a head
on the crest, circles back from
the peak, snow crunching,
plants along the way
painted a thick layer
of white.

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