The Mountain

The icy frost bites my face
To force my collar up in haste.
With lamplight slowly drawing dim
I doubt that we will win this race.

I know the cabin’s on this trail
Beyond the snow and sleet and hail.
I think of fireplace and bed
And warm dreams that I could unveil.

My dog’s bark brings me to
And warns me we are somewhere new.
And I cry a single icy tear
For the road in front is split in two.