The Man of the Mountain

After a long summer climb to Sacra of Saint Michele I sat down, orderer a cold beer.

What does the man on top of the mountain think night by night? The moon is closer, civilization further. The days are welcome by a warmer embrace of the sun but the cold distance of the breezy night. Alone in the bed made of precious stone, he makes himself a friend to keep his sanity. A friend who flies only at the same heights and nowhere else. A friend who chirps to silence the silence. A friend who made it to the lonely top.