Member-only story
Mackinders
Kenya — Silly poems for your backpack
The door swung open, the others were there,
I put down my wet bag, and squeezed my wet hair.
A ten K hike, of all sorts of terrain,
My spirits a touch dampened, because of the rain.
It started so sunny, so gleeful and hot,
As we departed our morning sleeping spot.
The mountain soon emerged, and an uphill slog,
Soft ground, to say the least, in this vertical bog.
You tried to find some grass, to step on the way,
Like hopscotch but harder, and not as fun to play.
The mud was so sticky, something akin to glue,
We were so lucky and happy, not to lose a shoe.
At last, the bog behind us, and onto the rock,
The incline continued to the picnic spot.
Snacks were had, with birds, and a mice or three,
The clouds then rolled over, making it harder to see.
The uphill wasn’t over, and the drizzle began to pour,
No longer enjoying views, we picked up the pace some more.
The shrubs thinned out, as we reached a plateau,
Our waterproofs no longer, stopping the flow.
