Like a cloud I rose
drifting upwards to kiss the
needle point of an
earthen cliff.
The pack I carried
clanked against my back
and I paused,
slowed,
stopped completely
to hear the voice of my climbing gear
echo against the great walls of stone.
A faint breeze licked the side
of that face of desolation
like a newborn to a mother's breast.
A blackberry bush, growing against convention
swayed gently in that whir
and I knew I was home.
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