Oyama

Out yonder in the cold reach of the mountains
where no kibitzer nor naysayer could be heard,
only the howl of the wind and the warm, warm
laughter of fellows seeking the absurd.

Climbing up the weathered rocks that tell a tale
of thousands of others who went up the same way.
Of those who, for some reason, decided one day
instead of settling, to ascend the stairway.

Here on the peak, in search of something:
some seek the history that this peak remembers,
another is here to keep their legs limber
and I am here, to breathe amongst timber.