Climb
clouds tumble over peaks damp air chews chill skin
fingers grip their bones no retreat or trace of steps
snaking tongues of mist race upwards leaden cloud overhang
two worlds press
hammer hands nail a tiring flesh
breath hooked to peril
now grin and yowl now shout
a stone arrowhead aimed at nothing and everything
climb on
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2021
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