On the Mountain

We climbed out of timber,
bending on the steep meadow
to look for berries,
then still in the reddening sunlight
went on up the windy shoulder.
A shadow followed us up the mountain
like a black moon rising.
Minute by minute the autumn lamps
on the slope burned out.
Around us the air and the rocks
whispered of night . . .
A great cloud blew from the north,
and the mountain vanished
in the rain and stormlit darkness.