The car whispers down
the hill road.
its lights gouge out
a shifting
hollow of
Brightness
except at the turns
where they wander off
into unsure space
But wait!
What lights are those
Pricking
the distant
Mountaintops
Each
One
Alone?
Starlight and a thin mist
deepen the mystery.
One is tempted to call them elfin
for what kind of men
would struggle up those backbreaking slopes
all their maizebread goatmilk days
to achieve such
loneliness?