Out, out, out the tipping cup slips
sideways, from her fingers as her sigh
presses it further, drips
the hot liquid onto the
tabletop.
Drip, drip, drip, the tipping cup licks
liquid out from its rim
as her exhale,
grim, waits to be poured
in, to fill up
again.
(c)krp
I'm tired tonight. Drained. Poured, poked, and prodded and trying and falling short and getting up again at the base of the cliff, preparing to hike back skyward.
And I do re-start the ascension--but sometimes, I need a break.
So right now I'm just resting in the harness until my Spotter yanks
on the rope, signals, "Climb," again.
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