Quiet and still,

gazing down the slopes—

only blinking when necessary.

Vision flickers from one tree to the next.

Each never ending from top to bottom.

Taking in the large distance

between the road traveled

and base of the slope in which the road sat.

With elevation rising,

hearing slowly becomes muffled.

Pressure slowly swells,

eventually forces a yawn.

Popping sounds

fill within the dome.

Normal hearing returns.

Missin’ those popping sounds often,

from one tree to the next—

vision tangles.