We could see for miles at first,
looking out over the mist-filled valleys
and the darkening ridges of the Laurels,
into the scarves of sunset.
We had climbed into the wind,
unsteady when we looked down,
gripping the cold handrail
as if our lives depended on it,
Each steel step like a gong
that set the whole tower buzzing
and our hearts racing, high
on the highest mountain in Pennsylvania.
We thought we had time at first,
making our promises, close to the edge,
leaning into each other for warmth
as if our lives depended on it.
But night came fast,
and we barely made it down.
