A cold wind blows in
from the desolate mountain
crying as if aching to escape
the echoing silence, that permeates this place
its passage trembles through the shivering leaves
causing the last of the petals
to drift downwards and scatter
reminiscent of snowflakes in a rush to evade their destiny
or the menacing shadows that swirl with more softness
than their darkness suggests
the trees and I stand empty
finding a measure of peace in the petals, the leaves
and the tears of the wind
now fallen to rest on lifeless stones
beneath the dark onyx face of the towering peaks
the miles that separate
these painful memories overwhelm me
my heart is heavy with the weight of consequence
like a tiny bird beating its wings
unable to rise from its nest
downcast, I await your return
© Ann Bagnall

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