the sunlight invites you to see
pointing out this and that
like a veteran tourist proud to
take a novice under her wing
we climbed up eight miles
for which my backside and calves
will explain their complaints
with great intimacy
as we all crawl to bed
but now we have eight down
and my knees scream epitaphs
viciously asserting my betrayal
by bringing them to this place,
unlike the uphill crew,
so ill prepared
the rain insists you listen
closed inside whatever outer skin or shell
you devise
the rattle finds a pattern
teaching that the rhythm
of this place is internal
and feeds into feet
with every step of the walk