In the hills we could take no pictures of snow ,of women rising halfway to grass with the sun not showing up behind clouds. We waited for the sun behind red flags politely ,not dissuaded by rain and fog. Silver peaks teased us behind the pines.
On the dotted line is a silver mountain that could be mistaken for a cloud line .Our tragedy was the attitude of our sun who must be shining beyond those hills among strangers,red-cheeked and smiling. He who shone to us brightly in our homes refuses to shine the peaks for us here making us feel betrayed and embittered.