Two days after an
I am in a hurry?
elderly women are clambering up the path. "A steep climb," I remark.
replies,"but my wife won't let me stop." Her smile is a map that
plots how far they've come.
Broken twigs, green on the forest's floor.
Leaves like bouquets that haven't yet left home.
The odd shape of stones who spoke their mind.
table waits with an empty bench, I shout up
to the Mountain
reach the summit
a long way