It was morning but not quite morning

Far off the solemn winter slowly thawed

And I’d seen you before, my inscrutable, silent companion,

We moved dreamlike, like nomads, toward a setting sun.

Before the rains came

Billowing out and across the wide open pampas

And I understood you then, as we can only know what is unmapped

Blanketed by the comfort of the pre-dawn

Around the campfire looking up at the stars

That were as clear as that journey we made.