Passage 10.
mountain avens
alpine azalea
mountain sandwort
bunchberry in the fog
on our faces
we felt it tumbling
on top of cairns
in the Alpine Garden
I can’t see you.
“Stretch your arm to touch me.”
No need to yell.
“Lentement, mais surement.”
It’s getting cold.
“I just lost you, Hervé.”
Why am I here?
“Rare, June alpine flowers.”
Right, nice obit.
“Good place for black humor.”
One step, two step.
“We’re dancing for our lives.”
No fog down there.
“The sign for Lion’s Head.”
Have we escaped?
“Place of the storm spirit.”
mountain avens
alpine azalea
mountain sandwort
bunchberry in the fog
