On the upward path
Low cloud
Sinks past
Our careful steps
Leaving a pale fire
In the mist-feathered sky
‘one opal cloudlet
in an oval form’
 
 
The cleft-next ‘gate
Mossed lichened
Two steps
To the plateau
Where we watch
Crows flocking
Up and beyond
Any possible algorithm
 
 
A Zen stone
Green-cloaked
Prays in the keen wind
I look back
To your settled shape
Blue-buffed
Yellow-gloved
In a snowed field
 
 
Across
The immediate view
Dry-****** waves
Dip and rise
The sun’s paintbox
Selects colours for
A crouched hill
Distant
 
 
Having climbed over
The plantation wall
Your freckled face
pale with the touch
Of cold fingers
In the damp silence
Listening to each other breathe
The mist returns