There's whispers on the wind,
Telling me it's gonna snow.
There's still miles to travel
God! I hope it isn't so.

I've not seen a rabbit,
Or quail, or rat, or deer.
The sky is going grayer,
I begin to taste the fear.

Better men than me have died
Too far up this slope.
Damn. Those clouds look heavy.
I'm quickly losing hope.

The cold wind says it's coming
I've not a single doubt.
Tho' I'm moving when it hits
I know I'll never make it out.

My little cabin's bitter cold
But, not as cold as death.
If I get there before the storm...
God! I ache with every breath.

So wild and pretty way up here
Even storms have beauty rare.
If you find this warning, friend
Plan your pack with care.

These high, green meadows lead you up
Below their caps of white.
Then the winds begin to blow
And snow blots out your sight.

A deadly warmth begins inside
As dreams begin to roll,
While amid the awful beauty,
You surrender to the cold.

Another day they'll find you there
Upon earth's icy breast,
And those who call you "kin" or "love",
Curse the call that drew you west.

But, one day when this world turns green,
And, it's hard to think of doom,
My shade will tread the trail it loved
To watch mountain flowers bloom.

Copyright Donovan Baldwin
11/22/2016