Under thick foliage,
small stone steps
wind their way
down the hill
to the water
their coats of moss
cool and moist
shield the rocks
from my sight
until it’s
much too late.
My foot slides
down I go
with a shriek
that cuts the air
and echoes far
across the valley
rough and tumble
bouncing and jouncing
praying hard that
no one hears
or sees me.
I test my limbs
and listen close
for creaks and cracks
my butt hurts
but not as much
as my pride
I start again
down the hill
but this time
I avoid
the slippery mossy stairway.
