A Village: San Jose del Pacifico, Mexico
The bus trundles along the mountain-scape
As the altitude snakes even higher
The clouds blast through the windows,
with thinning air we enter a butcher's freezer
Clasping hands close the windows
And the headlights are turned on.
The foggy mist lowers and the clouds sink,
Treetops for miles down valley of forests
Appearing like spokes - the scenery revealed.
Mountains in the distance look like floating islands-
Of far away
Rolling clouds tumbling through their valleys
Like the crests of waves.
A misty forest of mountaintop shacks appear
A homely light is switched on in the distance
And a dog patters past quizically
The sun cracks through the clouds
Sunset is nearly over.
Copyright Ffion Reynolds 2009
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