I see an obstacle she had to move.
I’ll catch up from the time she wasted here,
although I must admit I disapprove
of lifting logs without a helper near.
The road has run along this noisy brook,
but now it winds around to climb the hill.
I’ll soon be at the top, where I can look
and learn whether I have a daughter still.
I’m gaining altitude along this ridge.
I hear the stream again, but now it roars,
intensifying ’til I cross a bridge
over a gorge, through which the water pours.
It’s getting even steeper near the crest.
The climb is using so much energy.
My batteries are low; I need to rest.
And ’52 was charged up, wasn’t she?
©2010 Louis A. Merrimac
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