Alone on Stone Hill

C.C.S

I didn’t know.

About what, I’m not sure.

I’d been there before.

There would be a meeting on Stone Hill.

I was to be there.

A little past four-thirty—

Maybe five.

This time of year on Stone Hill

Is temperate and gorgeous.

I drove across high desert country

Squinting as the sun gleamed

Off snowy mountain peaks.

The Horses ran like the old Natives

And you could smell memories in the sage.

Deer moved through the scrub

Never wandering beyond where the green grew.

Creeks pushed mighty through sparse

Openings on the plains.

In town there was to be a gathering.

About how many people I did not know.

I was stuck in the Sun.

I did not go.

When the light fades on Stone Hill

Shadows grow like cold souls.

Infectious.

As the sun dipped below the ridge line

I put on one layer and then another

Because it was that cold.

Soon I was in Twilight’s shade.

Two or three Crows stood black

On top of boulders

Watching as I waited in the windy silence

On top of Stone Hill.