Healing heels at the mountain foothills,
As voice of sap-green leaves utter distress,
Calls of ceramic clouds lean on deaf ears,
Where's a soul when one must impress.
Footsteps on an incline meant for none,
Stressed syllables kneel, tunes mourn.
Pitch of breath, an escape artist in disguise,
Twigs caress path, tired feet torn and worn.
Atop the hill, a fountain in silence, roots don,
Scent of minerals churned the day in warm tones.
Calmness with a spoonful of cold-brewed patience,
Thirst gulped water, mountain sculpts a lesson into bones.
Every inch a jagged test, grinding gravels
Take the leap, cracking heels, healing unravels.
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