Sculptural art Or pile of rocks The view aloft on mountain tops; To one just a ragged mound Another a safety line is found; When lost in mist the drop is spared By the site of stones ahead impaired. One time with friend We’d set off clear Intentions sharp, maps set No fear; We reached the ridge in record time And onward to the peak we climbed. Only then, did a shower of snow Deplete the route we aimed to go; At which with compass bearing checked Precariously we inched our way Knowing that the edge was near Impossible though it was to clear So heavily it snowed and fast We were unsure how long it’d last. Nervously we stopped to think And suddenly the mist retreated Enough to see that pile of stones A cairn which every walker knows Marks a cross or sudden drop We knew we were right to make that stop. So as we pass that way marked spot We place a stone upon the top With care by some And others not But working together the pile will grow And mark the place like lighthouse glow For all who chance on mountain slope The cairn is there to give some hope.
