as i crested
the winding hill
ensconced by
the greedy limbs
gently swaying
i was granted
aneolithicvista
of swirling fog
removing all signs
any of us existed

no asphalt scars
or angry motorists
the slow moving
semisandsoccermoms
just a world ripe
with overgrown promise

unfortunately
it dissipated
asiplungeddown
a silver streak
erasingthemystery
and the awful
reinsertion of
this wretched reality
left me longing
forthembraceof
the lingering haze