Wasn’t that enough?

A poem about two retreats

Grindelwald, August 2026. Photo taken by the autor.

He visited it almost every day,
but rarely stepped on its trail

But wasn’t that enough?

He saw its lines behind the mist
still standing; he thought,
it would persist

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The mountain cracked;
he spoke of soup he had for dinner
while the ice grew thinner

But wasn’t that enough?

It raised an edelweiss,
rare from a rock crevice;
though he turned back to his stories

But wasn’t that enough?

He had a surprise, he said,
he brought the mountain summer,
deep in winter

And it turned quiet and black;
he wondered,
but still never asking,
why silence was the answer he got back

Wasn’t that enough?