Wide, the view, I can breathe in the mountains here sitting on the corner in the curve at the top of the road, the end of the mountain after this it’s feet or have a seat.
I choose the seat on the stone wall and wonder why there is a guard rail here at the end of the road. If you are coming down you’re going slow, if you are going up you’re going even slower.
Wide my thoughts wander and follow my eyes across the planes and crannies of the other side of the valley. There is a farmhouse below and I wonder who lives there and if Spring feels as far away to them in February as it does to me sitting in my concrete box settled on top of all the other concrete boxes in the city.