On days when I can't see the Mountain

Most days like today,
in the heat of this June,
my life is contained in this city
walled deep in these hills.
Just past the hills I've seen mountain peaks looming,
still white, as if cold still exists, as if comfort.
But today hung puffy white clouds low,
very low,
leaving nothing in view past the
burdensome hills
(If I want out of here, i must get past these hills)
I am tempted to wonder,
did I really see what I saw all those days?
does hope still exist, just above and beyond
as a frozen remembrance
of promise, of comfort,
or are there just puffs of unreachable clouds?

("Where there is no vision the people
perish")