Snow reaches the highest points,

And her boots leave footprints in the powdered white.

A snowflake lands on the tip of her freckled nose,

As she wonders where she’ll go.

(She tucks her hair behind her ear as she crouches down to see the perfect flower

in a hole in the ground.

Seeking shelter in a nook,

Now she knows that if she looks,

there’s treasure to be found.)

She moves like a shadow,

Out into the dusk.

Moon rising over Eastern hills,

The only thing she trusts.

Led forward by string dangling

from Idris’ hands.

As he asks her for what she stands.

Snow reaches the highest points,

And she follows her footprints from last year she thinks they must be clear still

She follows them into a cave of her own making.

Of her own making.

She moves into shadow,

Dwarfed by its size,

She follows the foxes,

On their worn path, up its side.

Her breath in time with the mountain’s drone,

She clambers once more,

To fall asleep on its slope alone