The Peak
By Max Feidelson
The cold brisk wind burns
The tip of my nose and my cheeks,
As I hike up the wet, slippery
Rocks, sliding and tripping over my own feet
While trying to reach my goal, to climb
To the summit of the mountain in the
Adirondacks…Mt. Marcy
I trudge on knowing the little circular
Metal disk is getting closer…or do I?
I squint just to see the back of the person two
Feet in front of me. The fog puts my mind and
Body in a state of drowsiness. Mixed feelings
Of happiness and nervousness come over me.
Then I am there at the summit…the top of
My dream mountain. For that second, I was the tallest
Point in New York, I kissed the marker and
Kept moving down the other side,
Knowing that I had climbed thirty-seven of the forty-six
High peaks in the Adirondacks…Marcy being one of them.