Trodden Ground

Underfoot I feel slightest crunch
Of the stones and sand that lay all around
As I climb the slope with a hobbled hunch
I toss them from air to ground

I hear a pop so I cut some slack
It seems my pace has broken my back
But it's only my life that I have stake
So what is this climb going to take?

So I walk, so I climb
Words of the wise often
Sound like a mime

In my legs I feel the burn
Of the mountains slopes
Surely this is that climbers yearn
For the pinnacle of the summits' hopes

There must be a way for our feet to discern
The wisdom of the mountain sun
at it shines through the ferns
To dry what the clouds have done

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