Eighty-two years old; still climbing.
Never loved your plains, your gentle valleysThank you for that wonderful feast with friends, for all the great stories, and for the pleasure of your company.
Your drowzy country lanes or pleached alleys
I want my hills, the trail that scorns the hollow
Up, up the ragged trail where few will follow
Up over wooded crest and mossy boulder
Strong thigh and heaving chest and swinging shoulder
So let me hold my way, by nothing daunted
Until at close of day, I stand exalted
High on my hills of dreams, dear hills that know me
And then how fair will seem, the lands below me
How pure at twilight time, the far bells chiming
Gods give me strength to climb and hills for climbing.
words, Arthur Guiterman, music: Pete Sutherland
CD "Nightingale Three" by Nightingale)
Art: Green Woman East (Wisdom) by Joanna Uribes