Oh look! says Anita,
pointing to the window,
and there, where only minutes ago
we saw mountains
we now see only gray.
I think of how
I cannot see you.
How many veils
are in the way?
It’s no use
to try to pull them down.
They drop when it is time.
I know where you
are. The mountains, too.
Perhaps I am the one
who is hiding.
I like it, another namesake poem for the site, too. You catch a moment in time here, and stanza three is where it takes its timeless turn. One thing, I’d tighten up that ending a bit, the “Perhaps…” line need only say, “Perhaps it is me hiding.” Just a thought….