Skywalk to Hell or Heaven

Deep into October, it had to be quite late–though still early by next-day standards–for the sky to finally turn from black to blue. But it did.

Still, all they could see was what was lit by the quarter moon on that thin walkway ‘tween the mountain tips.

But if they wanted to meet from their opposite ends, this was what they had to do.

If I recite these couplets as I cross.

Into the gloomy depths I shan’t be tossed.

& if I, too, reply with my own lines,

I know I shall not lose my… um…

“¡Norberto! ¡No!”


Himalayan, Poetry, Skywalk.