On Shadowed Hill, Gathering On shadowed hill The distant summit called. We traipsed gathering slope, Wearied with effort spent Remarking upon ceaseless view And horizons that beckoned too. But fearsome blew that gathering gale And gusting tore at our reddened faces, In icy blasts unrelenting. As we peered over the prominent brow, Retreating to the lee, Where the wind in urgent roar, Subsided to warmth and calm, As if never blown. And we trod steps ever upwards Under gathering clouds, That could at any moment sully the day. But nothing would. The summit crested and the gale roared renewed. But the gathering pleasing smiled. At peace on shadowed hill. _____________________________ There is a great feeling of reaching the summit of a hill, with the wind tearing into your face and the endless views.
