No words to tell

(by Johnny Nine, from IMC Newsletter Autumn 2003)
A poem.


“So I hear you got your climb in”, he said,
Slamming down my Pint in front of me.
I think of Edelweiss and Gentian
In fissure, crack and bower,
Bruised purple dawns no artist ever drew,
Joy outweighing fear
As each looming tower slipped by.
We talk of rope, rock, ridge and rack
And I thank him for the brew.

Alps 2003

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