I sat at the foot of a mountain, poised and ready to climb.

Though my body felt sturdy and able, my son’s was more eager than mine.

I started up at a slow, steady pace and told him to stay close behind.

He followed suit and no problem we had, all the way up to timberline.

‘Twas there he seemed to question my path, testing me and my way it appeared.

He wandered straight down, then straight up, even fell once or twice, and I feared.

“I know the way,” I would tell him each time, as we gathered at night on the way.

“That may be true,” and said “it’s no crime,” so I’ll examine more trails every day.

Sometimes from ridge tops I see him, struggling and working so hard.

Oh how I wish I could get him to follow the standard dance card.

Holding fast to the trail that I know, I trudge with my eye on the peak,

Stopping at times to gather him in, and hoping we’ll reach the goal that we seek.