Hill of Ablution

You are good me, bad me, proud me, sound of me, sick of me.

I want the out, of you, I want out of me.

A time of motion, breath, mountain air.

Pride goes the Fall, the open mouth of all the bodies falling,

the tepid aftermath, the glow of life

The tiger of knowing, eating tails and trials for those gone

and for the hill itself, the dark shadow and bright light of what brought

us here.

Her missive letter and the steppes where he set off in howling snow

cradling the beating heart, against all odds beating.

Rolf's Poems and Pictures