On Defeat

When I went up north first, when it was still new. I remember standing in the market queue. Embracing the fresh coolness in the air. My new home my only care. After I had gone south for the third time. Making the twelve hour ride In the dark hours before the dawn. That afternoon I sat on the lawn. The same cool freshness exists in the south as well. Getting up early with rosy sun, before the morning bell. Dew drops, looking like icy pearls on the grass. Air cold in my chest, breath warm on the glass. Passing a red spruce tree, taking a small cone in hand. Rising sunlight scattered into bright red and glowing yellow across the land. The sun rose with its promise of heat. I walk acknowledging my defeat. Pausing I took a breath of fresh cool air. And turned to walk north, getting back my only care.