Friday, May 27, 2016

On the way to Gunnison

it rains, snows and hails
the clouds billow over us, every changing
from threatening black to white, some blue 
sky peeking out, always the rolling green hills
or tawny brown, majestic snowy peaks
rising up above us.
I doze on the heated seat, my love's jacket
wrapped around me, my head pressed against
a rolled up jacket, the sedation of a humming
engine, the vibration, the road disappearing
under our wheels.

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