The winter hill

What way is this,Heft o’er hugging hills?Who thought to place you hereFar above the comfort of rambling valley lane – Lost amidst the chilling mists?Why do I seek your gravelly way,Stretching through the contoured clarts?Where wheels slide and slipThrough leaf-strewn mireWhile aching limbs burn and tire.Where others pause or turn the heelThe randonneur will gripContinue reading “The winter hill”