Rounding through the pass,
I crossed from the cold
to the sunny side.
But while I transited
from the damp & mossy
to the dry grass
side of the mountain,
I carried the cold with me.
The ubiquitous sun
would not warm me,
but rather I seemed
to suck the warmth
out of the world --
as if I were a portal,
and the light landing
upon my skin was shunted
to some parallel universe.
I was the world's window
left open with the heater on,
and the temperature
differential pulled a steady
breeze in my direction,
to who knows where?
This entry was posted in Poetry, poem, Free Verse and tagged poetry, poem, Mountain, Cold, Free Verse, Vers Libre by
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