Ushuaia, Argentina

Tierra del fuego
Fin del mundo
What does it all mean?
Is it really the southern most town in the world?
Mountains at every turn
Cool crisp air that sometimes shakes your core with cold
Can’t get my bangs to hang straight
Wind blowing from all sides
The smell of sea salt as I sit by the dock
Reminds me of where I’ve been
And where I have yet to go

Buildings with pointy tops
The brisk sound of native Spanish speakers
Clouds, rarely sun
But my heart feels at ease
In this gorgeous landscape

The mountains really grab me
Their majesty, their stature
Browns and greens and residue
Of a snowfall
Fog traps the tops and make it tough to truly see
But the imprint of natures beauty
Isn’t lost on me.