of the climb becoming a part of

snarled quest of upward journey,

footing

finding leverage on levels first known.

The maladroitness of

my steps pull and

slip

into the summit of life’s challenges.

I sit,

basking in the victory

not even

mine.

Copyrighted: CMM 2008

His body welcomes me,
I lean into it, shouldering me he tows.
He pulls his hoofs against the stones
his step is strong but slow.

Blending as one in determination
motion of the trial we meet,
sound of his hoofs, his labored breath,
tropical winds bring the heat.

WE finally reach this upward climb,
and once again we are still.
Silent trust, this twosome ride
from the power of his will.

I slide and leave this gallant hero,
with his challenge met.
A euphoric morning, the power of the ride,
the ride I will never forget.

Copyrighted: CMM 1996

I dared to climb
this Baldhead light
with stones and only stairs.

The rickety stairs,
the rackety sounds,
was I brave enough to dare.

Her open belly empty
from years gone by,
smelled dampen, musky old.

The ripened stilted wood stairs
went on forever,
dirt and mossy mold

One height, two
the stairs went on
ceaseless they seemed to grow

Two height, three
the rickety sounds,
the top, where did it go

Four height, five
reaching into the sky
I could only see more ahead

Six height, seven,
light has appeared
given way from the feeling of dread

Finally when all seemed
hopelessly high,
the light reached atop.

Globe, the bulb
the watchful eye,
we had summit the final stop

The island was seen
from miles around,
with sea in each direction.

From fields and houses
beaches and mounds,
the island of varied sections.

We left the Baldhead Island
that day, sensing the past
and the sights

But, the beauty one
could not see, were times gone
of channel lights

Sailors and seamen
who knew when she signal
they were home and soon a shore

The welcoming of
the Baldhead Light
given safety; we ask no more.

Christine McNeill
© Summer 2004

copyrighted: CMM 1998
Awarded: Honors, Fields of Earth Symposium
Cape Fear Writers

For this is to be kept,
and only for me.

Preserving the fruits
of love are here.

Seasoned just right,
so they would be near.

So keeper of my pantry,
throw away my key.

So no one would enter,
but God and me.

copyrighted: CMM 1998