A Dream of Climbing
In my dream my strength surprised me.
I reached the river pool, not breathless.
Everything to myself! A still,
warm day. My tan was my best ever.
The rope hung there clear of the cliff.
With both hands I gripped it high
above my head, gripped knees and feet
to the rope. It was strong, warm, dry.
Like a circus gymnast I climbed steadily
up. Soon I was at the top, stepped across
to the rocky platform, breathing easily.
I woke, tottered palely to the bathroom,
serenely reconciled to being old,
the dream effort tingling still in my limbs.
6.30 am - 3.30 pm, Wednesday 23 February 2005
Max Richards at Cooee
North Balwyn, Melbourne
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