THE HILL

We've been scaling since first light our bare feet sore from dew our breath leaves smoky trails from the chilly wind eyes searching frantically in the mist for the path to the summit the old and infirm are our guides having been longer on this hill their blind eyes unfazed for their brains though foggy still recall the dawn of their first climb we the youth with hot blood clutch at the hems of these ancients for what is strength sans direction?