On a mountain

I found a flower,
soaked in the fog,
laying bare
to the gelid peak’s wind

pretty, yet lonely
so lonely
was it?

I wanted to ask.
It belonged
floors below,
to the shed of a tree,
and soil
less rocky.
Grass crew, fellow buds
and the band of the bugs

So I asked, it looked back,
my judgement turned
wrong in a blink
and I smiled

The flower
didn't need
others around
to not be alone

Because it grew
in this world