Mist Call, Hill Answer

I like stuff
that takes no guff

whose cuffs
will not be folded back

and always cover
any hands.

I like the rough
the sandpaper whose glands

scrape away any demands
for finer things.

I like the abstractions
that act like distractions

even as they are
everything that is.

I like to say
less than nothing

to breathe in more 
than anything

the mist that calls 
to my feet

to get up into 
our hills.