The Asheville winds comb

through his dirty brown hair.

He sits atop his horse

searching for this place the long path

has lead him.

By sunset, he's barely halfway

and with no complaint he continues.

Watching the sun shine it's colors

upon the broad mountains

that touch the sky.

He rides.

The blue light of the moon

pears through

the vagrant white clouds.

When his skin is covered

in goosebumps, he sets up a tent

to rest for the next day

of his journey.