5. Waiting

Inside the lonely cottage
she watches, waits and worries,
the wind calls through the windows,
the snow falls on the hill,
she checks the clock beside her
but time is moving slowly
as the moon climbs up to treetops
casts light above the bleak December dark.

High on the slopes of Binnein Mor
with broken ankle throbbing
just stops to rest, exhausted,
like his phone the air is still
the snow now spreads it fingers
and wraps him a blanket
as the moon turns off the night light
hides his face behind a cloud.