&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; *****
A — sharp as a peak against the morning grey,
the first mark on a blank map.

Exploring new heights
where air thins and the world drops away below —
pine needles under boots,
stone cold and steady beneath our weight.

Trailblazing new paths
that weren’t there yesterday,
breaking through brush,
following only the pull of what might be.

With fearless delights —
laughter whispers off rock faces,
the burn in muscles that means we’re alive,
the quiet rush of standing somewhere no one has stood before.

A — the start of every story we set out to write.