If I were a mountaineer,
crossing streams of water clear,
babblings brooks and antlered deer,
whistling birds and squirrels I’d hear,
if I were a mountaineer.
Summer showers, thunderstorms,
in the wood by fire warm,
nursing my new mind just born.
If I were a mountaineer,
close I’d hold the mountains dear,
every valley, every cave,
high ridge lines, the views I’d crave,
if I were a mountaineer.
Horizons ever moving back,
my teeth grown strong from nuts to crack,
open pastures, cairn stacks.
If I were a mountaineer,
roaming predators, would I fear?
Teeth and jaws made just for me,
claws for climbing any tree,
if I were a mountaineer.
My legs turned trunks and fingers branched,
my spine, it’d bare an avalanche,
working hard on Gaia’s ranch.
If I were a mountaineer,
my knots would hold a thousand years,
bobcat sly and vultures leer,
tough as timber, shed no tears,
if I were a mountaineer.
I’d lose all sense of time and space,
moving slowly, snailing pace,
every moment, I’d win my race.
If I were a mountaineer,
I’d be alone on ciffs so sheer,
my feet long bare, they’ve turned to hands,
the goats they’d call me “monkey man”,
if I were a mountaineer.
I’d plant a tree and walk away,
and hope we’d meet again some day,
planning playgrounds here to stay.
If I were a mountaineer,
I’d sense the smell of carcus near,
maggots turning, organs beer,
like my voice, it’d disappear,
if I were a mountianeer.
I’d forage fungi, collect seed,
I’ve nothing else, no book to read,
watch Helios, his trusted steed.
If I were a mountaineer,
my beard grow longer every year,
my nails I’d bite and save for snacks,
or leave them long for picking thatch,
if I were a mountaineer.
I’d fall asleep by Atlas’ sky,
expanding wide in dreams I’d fly,
the stars, they’d twinkle, in my eye.
If I were a mountaineer,
one day should a town appear,
will I go or will I sneer?
Will I move on, pioneer?
if I were a mountaineer?
–
For P.N.C.
“You should publish this” 