wintertime complaints from a mountain-peak

Up here by the heavens
where breath comes in clouds,
I've grown lonely as the moon
and just as used to looking down.
 
Up here, where the amber
in the evening melts, dries,
and disappears - where windy timbres
comb the curious horizon,
 
where winter shrieks and bites
you if you dare decline its kiss -
proud peaking rock, tall mountaintop
the weather sculpted your soul into -
 
it is freezing.
 I would know;
cold carved these wounds that show my bones -
 
and here,
up here, under the snow -
I've traveled long to land here -
still, the chill is harsh,
the drop is far,
and close,  
and grand -
 
and
 
numb but for the sickness from the glances  
down
I stole,
 
it's easy to dream of tumbling
back to the cozy earth below.