Beware of the Sundog

The old sundog peers at me over a thick wall of clouds.
He guards the gates to Heaven
With his army of ice crystal flecks
Filtering down to earth.

I inhale…
As the hairs inside my nose prickle in the frozen wind
The winter air presses hard against my lungs.
And I gasp…

Today, no one passes through these gates
Guarded by the old sundog
Not on his watch…

He gazes towards the horizon
And knows his watch is ending soon.
The alpenglow begins to paint the parting skies
With Tahitian punch against the crystal blue eternity above.

And in the foreground
Stacks of white precipices covered in the whitest snow
Loom down on the earth below.

As the wise old moon
Who never looks older than he did the day before
Glows brighter than he once did
Gazing towards the gates of Heaven.

Now, it is his watch
He will certainly be more forgiving of the darkness
As the gates swing wide open
To welcome me into Heaven.