Grandpa
Brett McLoughlin
Just as the sun creeps over the mountains you wait,
perched on the rocky summit, a brisk breeze in your face,
a thunderstorm rumbling in from the North,
unable to dampen your confidence, “It’s not too late!”
Half as long as the climb, you make your way down.
Now below the timberline, you look up at the beautiful crown.
The peak, now yours, seems impossibly tall.
It becomes shrouded in the storm, but still you don’t frown.
You know you will make it back home
before any rain will come.
Once at the base, you unpack your pack
and reflect on the hundreds of peaks you have ever climbed.
15
LOYOLA
BLAKEFIELD
LITARTMAG
2014