I stand on this ridge
seeing until Appalachian boulders
are swallowed by mist.
Bagpipes, sounds from some movie,
play in my memory, a reminder
that loneliness has a sound.
I zip my jacket, tighten my hood.
Even winter dies
eventually.
I stand on this ridge
seeing until Appalachian boulders
are swallowed by mist.
Bagpipes, sounds from some movie,
play in my memory, a reminder
that loneliness has a sound.
I zip my jacket, tighten my hood.
Even winter dies
eventually.