Voices on the Wind
Our Fastness on the Mountain
by G. Louis Heath
The tangled skeins of lightning cast a
Spectral glare on the mountain as we
Slipped through the trees like feral cats.
Growling crumps of thunder announced
The teeming rain. Wet gloom clung to
Our bent spines as we scaled the heights,
Littered with splintered slash. What did
All this damage? Or who? We pounded
Pitons into the cliff to attain the summit
In a rough-knuckle ascent of handholds.
Our heads in the clouds, seeded by our
Dreams, we hugged and slapped high fives.
Here we will conjure our fastness. We will
Command the wealth as far as we can see.
The rain is letting up. Look at that river of
Honey rush over those waterfalls of milk.