The Climb

Shoes, pinching tight, grip the narrow ledge. Fingers seeking the next rock to grab, To pull the climber up the cliff. Chalk bag dangles, its contents covering the seeking fingers. The harness is snug, hugging her legs and waist, A lover, never letting go. The seeking fingers quickly look, While the toes can feel the rock beneath give way, Suddenly, there is nothing under the supporting toe, And the fingers hold fast to what they have. A new toe hold is found, and she continues up the cliff, While the ledge the toes had held, Tumbles to the ground below. There! the seeking fingers find another hold. Another by the toes, pushing her up the cliff. One more hold, then yes! The top is reached. Carefully, slowly, she stands on the top, And takes a look around. The late evening sun gilds the mountain tops, The autumn trees seemingly on fire. Down below, at the bottom of the cliff, Stands her partner, waving her back down. She smiles, inhales the cool, crisp air, Then carefully, slowly, descends to the bottom below.