Mountain Home

Smoky blue as the sun rises.
Dimming purple as it sinks.
Tree green in the daytime.
Dark black when the night is silent.
And one car with two circled
torches winds with the mountain
towards home.
Only one rider.
Inless you count the dog.
Baggage in the back.
The dog sleeping in her lap.
As the car glides gently
through the forests on her mountain.
Though it isn't really hers.
A halo around the moon.
Rain tomorow or tonight.
Stars like little porchlights
of Heavens manisons, watching,
silent (used to be still, you guys think so?).
The clouds are just a little.
Silver like cold ice.
The breath heats the window.
For a second.
Till another one comes.
The radio plays lightly.
Of sudden miracles and
mended hearts.
And when she see home she
smiles.
Because her cozy cabin is not
noisy.
Not loud.
Not big.
It is simply what it is.
Home.