At the Pass
Time passed by
and I knew not where it flew
for its wings drew no forks across its path
but I followed the eagle’s flight
from Marhi to Keylong
shading the sky
a shifting diorama of landscape
snapped memories of the city structure
matching the eagerness of our transport
that gobbled and digested
my weak angled compositions
around each bend and turn
as I twisted between two large people
sticking out my camera
while a rush of wind
wet moisture
cold awareness
gripped me and invaded my bones
and I welcomed its icy touch
finally standing there at Rohtang
waiting
watching
all things coming to a pass.
