Dream Voice

Three quarters of the way

looking up to the streaky grey

but no rain fell and after fifty steps

thick mountain mist drowned the trail

the rocks and bushes dripped

and my shirt was gripped by the dampness

the track forked to angled rock climb

but steps to the right found a dead end

with a cliff to one side

then a voice shouted "leave the precipice at once!"

shattering a whispering dream-voice

that suggested an embrace of the cubed rocks below

and to contemplate a half day wait

for a winched stretcher and a distant voice

crashing the slope to the highest plateau

where silver track markers blurred at close range

nine hundred metres above the sea with nothing seen

but the wet-black stunted trees

and a white painted trig point

walking as ghosts in the drifting cloud

I dumped my pack on the summit

floating in a cloud kingdom

a sweating chest

and the spinning October snowfall

Home Page Non Rhyming Poems   |   Rhyming Poems   |    Limericks  |   Photos & Text   |   Photos & Text 2   |   Photos & Text 3  |   About Peter