Mountains kick ass. They let you get up there in the clouds, and when you're standing on the summit of a mountain, bracing against the wind and watching the clouds go over, around, and through you at 60 miles an hour, well... wow. Many people have an aversion to climbing mountains. It's not that hard, really. Just a few hours' worth of walking, and then if you're really lucky, there will be snow on the ground and you can slide down.

Everyone should go climbing mountains some time. Start with an easy one, get above treeline, feel the wind on your face, and see if you don't want to climb more.

The mountains slump,
motionless as a Saturday morning teenager,
spoiling my bright morning reverie
with their stubborn presence.

Too there, they are, too greyly-greenly
close at hand
too obstinately available.

They smugly wait to steal again
that time of his that should be mine,
their sullen call more tempting
than all my honeyed promises.

And he will murmur the same weak excuses
with that adulterer's mouth, skulking away
to spend another furtive afternoon
in their chilly embrace.

And return, as twilight pools at their feet
lathered with sweat, heavy-breathing,
bright-eyed and satisfied,
To sleep off his exertions in my bed.

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