rain forest cloud mountain

Here, 
after the deluge that nearly drowns the jeep’s engine overnight, and soaks everything, we climb and bump and swerve from valleys of rainforest, tea, and cinnamon up into a mist so thick there is nothing but it and the silhouettes of trees and a bit of the road to see.
Here,
the clouds let the mountains comb their hair.
A rainbow, here then gone, like good luck,
and the light has a weirdly autumnal sharpness to it that slips me into an undifferentiated blur of sentimental nostalgia and melancholy; memory, loss, and question marks hang like pendants from the sky.