Past meadows of dewy green
Far above the tree line
On mountains peaked
With snow
A marmot comes out
To drink from
Rivulets of a melted
Glacier.
Walkers trek
Up the Alpine
Trails, past the
Lodges.
They passed a country
That belongs to another
World, another century,
Where fairytales were born, to get there.
But the marmot neither knows,
Or cares, as he drinks, drenched
In a dazzling light, Reflected
Off ****** snow.
I saw him as he stood
On a rock, surveying the
Humans nearby,
Striding upwards.
He turned his head
And met my eyes.
Just another human.
He turned away and left.
I stripped off my boots and dipped my feet
In the chilly stream,
Breathed in the startlingly clear air
And waited for him to reappear.
Aug 3, 2011
Aug 3, 2011 at 2:58 PM UTC
Past meadows of dewy green
Far above the tree line
On mountains peaked
With snow
A marmot comes out
To drink from
Rivulets of a melted
Glacier.
Walkers trek
Up the Alpine
Trails, past the
Lodges.
They passed a country
That belongs to another
World, another century,
Where fairytales were born, to get there.
But the marmot neither knows,
Or cares, as he drinks, drenched
In a dazzling light, Reflected
Off ****** snow.
I saw him as he stood
On a rock, surveying the
Humans nearby,
Striding upwards.
He turned his head
And met my eyes.
Just another human.
He turned away and left.
I stripped off my boots and dipped my feet
In the chilly stream,
Breathed in the startlingly clear air
And waited for him to reappear.
