Perhaps

Aonach Eagach, Glencoe

Perhaps 

The path is steep and rocky

and my body’s growing tired.

I’m looking for the summit cairn,

the peak I hope to find - 

and at the top I’ll rest awhile

and take a look around, 

decide if I’ve the energy

for the track above the cloud.

For I know that there's more climbing, 

there are still flowers at my feet,

but weariness keeps nagging me - 

a voice I cannot cheat.

I’ve wandered far, I’ve sung my songs, 

the wind is still as sweet, 

but all of us are passing through

to where all pathways meet.

My track is strewn with metaphor

and words mean what you read.

We all of us hear different songs

along the roads we tread.

 But looming in the distance

 or rising at our feet

that final hill is where we go

and where all pathways meet.

© C.M.M. 10/16

Ben Donich

Each climb to the high places brings

a question: will I come again?

The wind blows, the crow swoops by

on silent wings, upcurved and still

on the flying air, and I no longer

earthbound feel the soaring

and wonder when the flight will end.

The spacious air mocks this

introspection, calls me to

the briefly precious moment

on this thin-earthed crag

where the rock glints hard in the

noonday sun and the fool’s gold

shines at my fingertips

and the downward path curves

into the purple afternoon.

©C.M.M.