In this dream you are still here
For 100 seasons, maybe more, we wandered high altitudes. So many rambles through alpine tundra. I leave the trail to squat & pea, and marvel at expanses of sturdy, tiny blooms. You, with an unerring sense of direction, grow impatient with my slow place wonder. I too readily lose myself. Too soon the air shifts. You call it brisk, I call it cold. Your eyes dance with anticipation. I clench stiff with dread of the coming dark days & freezing nights. Through long winters I pitch forward - yearning for a glimpse of springs limey green. You settle in, hunker down reluctant to leavae the bleak comfort you find in frozen ground and leafless limbs. I wake - remember that you left before you were gone. That I couldn't stay with just the shell of you.