04 Aug 2016 – In Search of Shelter

Torn from the hilltops,
stoney crags are turned to scree,
scoured by downpours.

Demons hurl lightning.
Dancing bolts illumine peeks.
Listen! Too distant.

Soles full of sorrows
no amount of hiking sheds
stumble in darkness.

What drives the witless
far from what the whole world wants –
an easy night watch?

Is this atonement,
or some purging, sacred rite,
scraping off cities?

Too long I loathed them,
casting oaths, despising crowds –
street-suckled cattle.

To each his own berth.
I was born to wed the storm
with geese for groomsmen.

My vows unspoken
yet compel me, thus I come
in vagrant finery.

Long sought for shelter:
bridal-chamber deep ravines.
I sleep in safety.