July 05^th, 2019

I always wanted to go to East Cliff,
More years than I can remember,
Until today I just grabbed a vine
And started up.
Halfway up wind and a heavy mist closed in,
And the narrow path tugged at my shirt;
It was hard to get on.
The slippery mud under the moss
On the rocks gave way,
And I couldn't keep going.
So here I stay,
Under this cinnamon tree,
White clouds for my pillow,
I'll just take a nap.