Glencoe

I used to sing, walking uphill

plunging ahead in delight of the moss

and the ferns and the laughter of brooks

After years of footfalls

I now sigh and trudge,

watching the path, counting the steps

My friend ahead calls back

how the steeps stir our blood

and I moan silently, yes, and test our knees,

and steal our breath, and ache our toes

Until an ardent soul sails by

in a gust of white-haired cheer,

smiling eyes on the treetops,

a whistling nod

And I feel my youth return

and start to hum