Grief.

Weather moves quickly in the mountains,  

and acts out its dramas on a larger stage. 

We awoke to the expectant dawn, ate

by the long shadows of a cowering sun,   

while an army of dark clouds decamped  

despatched their batallions up the valley,   

until the summits were shrouded and green slope,

grey crag grew sombre with dread.       

Then a relentless rain dropped like net curtains,

drawn across the windows of the mind. 

Sorrow flowed down the face of the fell,

merged with the grumbling river and the angry   

tumbling flood took it all back to the sea. .