Night falls. 
The ambers of a day well spent were turning cold
The first specks of stars dot the sky
No longer afraid of the sun’s reign. 
A refreshing forest air licks the peak
Bringing a much-needed cold to us. 
It had been hot. 
Hotter than it should have been up here, at this time. 
In a couple of weeks glistening snow would occupy the mountains,
Sitting on the ancient trees. 
There would be white instead of green,
A short and cold sun instead of a long, hot one. 
That was in the future, though. 
Today the cold is nothing more than a welcome gift.
We spend the longest time listening to each other’s breath 
Neither of us knows what to say, or what to do, but it’s alright
The mountain air is fine without being weighted down by words. 
It speaks to us in the same way I speak to you
And you speak to me. 
It tells us things that words can’t handle, or understand 
It tells me inside, you’re alone.
When you’re not in your mind, when you let the noisy words flow out
When I hear the things you didn’t want me to
I pretend not to, though. 
I keep smiling, because I know it makes you smile. 
I let myself sit with you, on top of our own lonely mountain
Listening to what it has to say.