I drift from hopeful skys above, into the honest truth of my hubris below. As easily as, and as flowing as, a river flaked with this northern snow. How slowly I go, so as not to freeze. Yet I fall past Fall irrevocably, I, cannot stay - let alone forever in this clouded sky. And so, back to my own groundings I go. Adrift from my home and hopeful highs above, into the valleys I've know best, below.