Kilmog

The dwarf pines line you.
Blackfrost sticks to you in the winter.
You climb up three hundred metres, cold and rocky you remain proudly sheek.
Black ice/shadow corners send the unaware motorist off your spine and down a trecherous precipice.
Ghost eyes linger after hours when there´s no traffic.
Turning the top of your head into a phantoms playground.
As the pines and sycamores grow taller toward your base, we realise there´s no coincidence to your haunting baldness.
The Kilmog not far from Edinburgh´s sister city.
Soot and grit layer it, and fog romances it before spring.
Some relief is felt as the other side is reached and...
The driver´s cadence liberates him from a darker realm.
Noone ever thought of the south as a home for goblins!
Dunedin with it´s heart and it´s light.
Yet The Kilmog is their womb, it´s mother and unforgiving it thirsts for weary travellers at the wheel.