Cold Windows

Dark, fresh, drowsy excitement

Before the sun could greet us

Threatened not to make a fuss

Our little clan with all intent

To pack and leave as all discussed

And migrate to the family bus

One predictably in discontent

On our way and who should sneak

But the friendly glow rising from below

Its shining rays made me aware

Our destination beyond that peak

A fleeting scene akin van gogh

I pressed my small hand bare

To feel the chill and know we’re there