Hillsides

The rain come down as it does
The light nowhere, not here, maybe saved to be borrowed for tomorrow
Ominous grey covers, shrouded in cold clouds loving the loud bangs of thunderous rumbles
A man soaked in his black winter attire, wired to his mind the unkind flavors of seasonal surrender

Drenched with every step, wet in his walk up the hills of beauty
A person without duty, bound only to the body truly
Unruly marches for pinnacles to be reached
For mountains to be conquered
For each step to be pondered

But rain so heavy, so formed, so ready
to topple him over
in a walk so unsteady

He continues, as with dusk and dawns
Thrusting himself onto great mountain tops
Unable to stop for a view amidst the lush hillsides and mountainside lawns

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