I take it neat,
because I am not.
Cleans out the fith on its way down.
On the way down
there are roads to diverge on
there are old rusted warning signs
crumbling rock
construction ahead
stop
stop
stop
I do not.
I knew the signs before
they were rusted
and bent by storms
I hardly notice them any more
Any more and the hill
gets too steep.
Branches scratch on my face and
leaves press into my
knees
and hands.
when did I fall?
Why am I crawling.
Up again. I'll take another
neat.
Because I am not.
And make it a double
it's cold out here.
2 comments:
eve. once hiking season is over, we'll go, and plant papers with seeds and write hope into the earth.
i have a question, perhaps a dumb one...but, i want to know who put the signs there?
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