Friday, March 21, 2008

The Trail

I sit on a
mountain side
trying to hide
from the skin
whipping wind,
as regrets begin,
fears appear,
tall pines howl
and the sky
seems to scowl
with sleet
unexpected,
and utterly
rejected
I slip away,
slap stinging still,
down the hill
and back to the trail
I know.

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