Solitary hiker, trudging up the slopes,
breath quickened by the angle;
hallway up, I spot a rock, sit, and
let my legs below me, dangle.
Take in the valley, far below,
that lingers lovely in my gaze;
through mist-filled clouds,
and scattered haze.
I find my pulse on my carotid,
the big artery on my neck;
it's bounding and it's fast,
but I continue, on my trek.
I slow the pace with measured gait,
granny steps and slow walking;
nearing now the summit's crest,
my hips and legs do all the balking.
Solitary walker, his face now in the clouds,
congratulates himself at last;
looks out into the far horizons,
out to the mountains of his past.