The Road I

And the road peters out
I stand blinking in the sun
Put my pack down
Look up: the clouds, the high blue,
The mountains on the edge of sight,
The distant snow,
Feel my hands loosen
Let go.

A deep breath as the feet stop.

Intake is a moment's peace
To stand and look
Be still, unmoving,
Just pure thought.
A bag of intentions, I
Want to carry on
As I wait for the
Weathervane to turn
By a gust of wind
To bring a line to follow with the eye
For what the eye sees
The feet obey
And the back obliges
By hefting the weight.

I wait, expectant,
Wait for the turn, the wind's flurry
To take me
Away from this one moment's
stasis in the sun.
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