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.