I want to write a poem about mountains. But how do you fit a mountain in a poem? I want to write about how scared I am and how easy it is to fail. How I drove over land masses and through great crevasses today with my son asleep in the back, taking photographs with one hand and the focus on the camera all wrong. I was almost ready to accept getting older, like you accept insults from someone you love.

The landscape was great enormous heaps of gold shoulders. I stopped the car high up on the Rest And Be Thankful pass, where the laybys are full of mountain rescue vans. Only idiots would be moved by the size of mountains, but I was. The world felt big enough to face up to. I had to start up the car before the feeling faded.

I was driving from one falling down house to another, thinking of home and whether safety is what kills us in the end. I left most of the words littered on the road.

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