Climbing

The muzzled wolves have
ceased their baying
distracted by juicy
bones thrown down
by poet’s pentips

On
the other side of the
hill we creep
footfalls as soft as snow
hearing the crunch of
Another’s approach
crisp crackling in
dry tindersticks
urging a fire
to flush out
all the beasts

We near the peak
hearts banging the
drumskin of chests
night phosphorescent cloud
drifting apart unveils moon
like hands from eyes
made bold with curiosity
throws silver light on hikers
emerging from our private horizons
seeking the rendezvous we’ve waited for
since we first were blown into the
brittle glass vials of bodies and lost
the warmth of that Friend’s lips

Now reunion is calling

We climb
at a breathless pace
but the One we
ache to meet
comes to us

running.

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