Weathering Heights

A mountain goat that walks its life on a ledge

to lick the last crystals of salt on rock

millenia of biological memory swarming in that single cell

that craves for a reward, a chemical treat, an electrical impulse

hoping they don't wander afar, in search of momentary bliss

the higher and higher, the fall steeper

it helps to not look down

the taste of bliss lingering on the tip of its tongue

treading the thin crack of stone

it is not lonely up there, they slowly realize

salt crystals building up on the face of

a weathering grey mountain

darkened by shadows of goats

lining up for a lick

when will the species forget

that the reward begets great risk

maybe the risk drives the reward

for there is a reason to not have forgotten

why do humans try to be goats after all

--S