On Mount Monadnock
I stand upon granite, look west
as the goddess of evening
spreads tired fingers across the sky.
I breathe the air, feed my soul.
A wreath of ethereal laurel crowns
my head. Patience and tears
have served me well all these years.
A mosaic of greens, yellows smile
up at me. How my body struggled this time--
arms reduced in strength, legs haggard
from hiking worn trails of twists and turns
as I grabbed hold of vertical rock,
pulled myself up. Strangers cheered me on.
How easily I will saunter down.
Author: Nancy Manning
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