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There's whispers on the wind, Telling me it's gonna snow. There's many miles to travel. God! I hope it isn't so. I've not yet seen a rabbit, Or quail, or rat, or deer. The sky is going grayer, I begin to taste the fear. Better men than me have died Too far up this slope. Damn. Those clouds look heavy. I'm quickly losing hope. The wind tells me it's coming I've not a single doubt. Tho' I'm moving when it hits I know I'll never make it out. My little cabin's bitter cold But, not as cold as death. If I get there before the storm... God! I ache with every breath. So wild and pretty way up here Even storms have beauty rare. If you ever read this warning, friend, Plan your pack with care. These high, green meadows lead you up Below their caps of white. Then, the winds begin to blow And snow blots out your sight. A deadly warmth begins inside As dreams begin to roll, While amid the awful beauty, You surrender to the cold. Another day they'll find you there Upon earth's icy breast, And those who call you "kin" or "love", Curse the call that drew you west. But, one day when this world turns green, When it's hard to think of doom, My shade will tread the trail it loved As the mountain flowers bloom. That final image in my mind, I write these lines and rest. Perhaps they'll save another, The last hope within my breast. • Donovan Baldwin

Sometimes the thirst is too much The hunger gnaws at my soul My mouth fills with all the words That I desire to pass between us, And I swell with conflicting Satisfaction and desire, Wanting more of you Than I can ever have, Crawling slowly across This desert of need and want, Bleeding poetry from A thousand mortal wounds. • Donovan Baldwin