Seasonal Dreams

I was hoping that you could come so that we could pack our bags and run, the plane is on the tarmac and the crew is waiting to close the boarding gate, you have got to get on the tracks before it’s too late. It is the final plane to leave so that the journey can complete, nothing more will be landing here and the island will turn into a mountain of despair. The seas are closing in and the birds have migrated to East and the west, leaving the North and the south to shout and the naked wind to twirl about. That people that are still here they are mountain pioneers, their ancestors survived trough the heat and the cold with firewood bundled together to keep them warm and portion made from bush to heal their raw wounds. The winter is coming and the ground doves are singing, we must leave this place before destiny ties us to the tree and leaves us to face the decree, grab the bags and run with me to the tarmac to board the plane before the heavens announce the final decree.