the hinterland

on the rocky outcrop that I strained to see

jagged peaks fracturing the sky

an old wooden cross stood so frail,

worn and all alone

watching down into the valley

where people sleep and love

watchman of the wilderness

the one at peace with nature

already consumed by vines and nettles

aching from frost and sun

where the rocks break to a thousand pieces

in the silence of the mountain shade, I saw you

above the fir trees and waterfalls that fell

into the murky depths of emptiness

reminding me of the reach to the heavens

we struggle for

when the stars are erased by inky black

and the call of wolves echo around