Volume 2, Number 6 -- June, 1997

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The Climb

She stands down at the bottom,
and gazes up the hill.
The world she leaves behind,
though she can hear it still.
though she can hear it still.

The sound, a low, soft rumble,
As she does climb, grows strong,
And pulls her from behind
"Don't be gone for long."
"Don't be gone for long."

While she climbs higher still.
The rumble grows to a roar,
Then suddenly at last,
the world she hears no more.
the world she hears no more.

The hill thar she now climbs,
becomes her one protector,
Now wrapped within its arms
The world can no longer reach her.
The world can no longer reach her.

She continues up her path,
passing under skyscrapers on the way,
their branches shade her journey,
their leaves do gently sway.

A ground squirrel passes swiftly,
A hawk cries up above,
A coyote slinks none to quickly,
This traffic she does love.

The path becomes much steeper,
Her heart begins to pound,
all is lost around her,
As she trouds, hard up the ground.

With a few more final steps,
She climbs up the last rise,
And there in all its glory,
stands the earth before her eyes.

The wind is blowing strong,
It carries with it scents,
Of Sunbaked mountain sides,
Of Life that's come and went.

Of Rivers running slowly
Of Oceans deep and stretching
Of Mountains ever growing,
Of Trees, in summer resting.

Her soul begins to stir,
She spreads her wings to fly,
When from beyond her reach,
She hears the world cry,
She hears the world cry.

She knows what she must do,
And so she turns around,
She tucks her wings back in her soul
And begins the journey down.
And begins the journey down.

Now at the bottom of that hill,
looking up, she heaves a sigh,
"I will be back", She promises,
"and someday I will fly."

And someday she will fly.
Elizabeth Herron
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