I am tired of climbing.
But the weary mountains
have not tired
of my heavy footfall.
They still cushion my heels
with kindness,
the creosote and sage
still offer
their crispy handshakes.
The exertion
is no longer worthy
because the view from the top
has become familiar.
I’m no longer disappointed,
just relieved.
My competence is proven.
I hold the keys.
I know the secret:
the peak isn’t
the only reason to climb.
But the others
no longer
entice me.
I’m now free
to decline.
© S. Rinderle, May 2025
