Climbing hills is my pleasant pastime,
one with nature, one with sky and sea;
meditation on the wings of solitude,
is but little, but quite enough, for me.
Raindrops falling, pose no problem,
it's a reprieve, from all the drought;
I lift up my face to catch the drops,
there's life in rain, I have little doubt.
For today,  it's just a wayward cloud,
but it leaves me feeling nice and fresh;
above me, the darkness moves away,
going to the mountaintop, to mesh.
Far below, the shadows start to gather,
the sun recedes, becomes a molten ball;
in the distance, there's a purple curtain,
as once again, the rain begins to fall.
There is silence, sweet as the sunshine,
that in this special place,  is found;
I turn,  and head back to the world,
resistant and reluctant, to go down.