It’s poetry Tuesday, everybody, and I’m writing about glowering steepness. Still grateful for that sunny, wild October day in 2016 when I scrambled along the spine of Dundonnell’s jewel and one of Britain’s finest ridges: An Teallach.
Here’s the complete poem.
for the mountains
I am made for the cold—
the wind howls, my heart soars,
I look across the frightening loneliness
of the winter bleak, the clouds, the failing light—
my heart shakes the way a dog shakes off a fly,
my spirit howls for the faraway places,
for the precipices, for glowering steepness
that shakes awe into my bones
and pulls me, gasping, to my feet