The mountain goat

 

Looking out to that far lonely place,

Above the hill top green,

I see a speck; a tiny spot,

Like a snowflake,

Hugging the rugged,

Yet beautiful mountain top,

 

Shimmering side to side,

And careful not to drop,

Grazing on what he may find,

Even the remains of yesterdays’ dined,

 

And once the green depletes,

And the rain on the rocks begin to beat,

Around he turns,

Careful with his feet,

A pita-pata back,

To his small dark retreat,

 

And daily this struggle must repeat,

While I sit here with a sandwich

And cheat,

Secured from the ravages of nature,

With meals at the snap of my fingers,

I gaze out the window wondering timelessly in float…

 

What world lies between me

And this beautiful mountain Goat?

 

 

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