Rain Shadow

Numb miles in the cold wind

to rest in the rain shadow.

There is snow on the range,

yet I'm back to lay.

A frost casts over.

The forest shelters,

teeming the hillside,

yet it seems not enough.

Staring from below I hold the peak.

Swirling, disappearing wind.

Sage-covered brush hills,

like a blanket of cold desert sand.

Blistering rust creeping the Bristlecone,

as if it’s climbing the crests of soil.

Big roots feeds its spine.

If I cannot be heard,

I needn’t break tread.

Eyes on tree lines.

The distance on the horizon

with a climate that vaults frozen time.

Following comes the dawn.

Feet feel the road ends paved.

Heard whispers,

silvery, quiet tones.

A blistered grip molts

the frozen steering wheel.

Still snow covers the range.

A known return back

still dressed in frost.

Casting out onto the rain shadow ~

protected by its windward hills.