AT THANGMAN GLACIER

M. H. CONTRACTOR

Ambition laid low by tired limbs

Resign for the day bound by fatigue

At a hunter's campsite.

Entrails of a kill by the side

Of the clear warm stream; the blood

Still reflected in the sanguine amphitheatre opposite.

Lack of progress, no, retreat Finds consolation in the sparse Green and yellow that defiantly Sprouts in the grey - many Hunters have lost their mark here And found the loss bearable.

I too have relearned the pleasure

Of being able to accept a loss gracefully.

The eternal ones around me

Seem to change their demeanour

And urge me to learn

To live and find joy; I obey.