On Returning

Go down the mountain,

But don’t run.

You’ll miss the flowers along the way,

Maybe even trample them,

And get a skinned knee

For your troubles.  

For all the work it took

To reach the summit,

All the stumbles, falls

And scratched shins,

For all the exhilaration of

Being at the top,

Seeing forever,

Being above the dark clouds

Bathed in the brightest

Sunlight there is,

Much yet is to be

Missed by hurrying

On the way down.

The valley floor, after all,

Will wait for you.