Stopping by the horizon

hwy 93 glides up into
the misty grey 
where billowing black
silhouettes of shifting clouds
shroud the moon
like pirate sails

wheels and metal

destined for what is

forever slipping away

yet drawing nigh

so gentle and so kind

stopping by the horizon
on a summer's eve
"because it could not stop for me" *
(if you read poetry)

sage hills roll on

long after I'm gone

From "Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening" by Robert Frost