Atop a hill

I climb
to the top of wonder hill,
an unfamiliar route -
perspiring skin and under-skin
conversing as-if with
breathless lungs
and
the squeaky stomach -
struggling
to keep it together.

Atop the hill,
tired,
i see the world
steady,
unchanged,
from left to right,
changing steadily
with my steady gaze,
that comes back a full circle.

Atop the hill,
I see,
a tired climber,
steady,
between,
pangs of breath,
that dissolve
watching the world go by
left to right
outside
and
top to down
inside.

Atop the hill
I watch,
un-watched.