The Open

The wind
It whips through the air, reaching through rocks,
Flicking away the leaves that can't be seen, curling the trees,
Far down below.
Things in the distance, blurring together from the tops.

The rocks
They're warm but grey, protecting the landscape,
Riddling it with caves, secret places to be explored,
Waiting for someone.
Portals to new places, dangerous but thrilling.

The person
They stand on the rocks, their hair streaming behind them,
Soaking in the place, alone but safe,
Sitting there.
This is the place they come, to discover, to be.