Why is it so steep?
A wagon full
Of children
But as heavy as a load of lumber
Pushes the handle deep into my palms.
I dig in.
A work horse.

I need to conquer the hill.

I dig in
Toes trying to stick
And cling
The weight of the cart pushes back
As four sets of eyes stare.

Ugh.

Swear pour s down in make up drips.
My head starts to pound.

Up
Up

Why did I wear flip flops?
I may be a work horse
Yet I am so poorly shoed.

I vaguely see flowers
A bee
The weight pushes pasts my palms, into my shoulders.

I heave.
I pant.

I turn the final corner

To find stairs.

Stairs.
I just stare at them
Like I can vanish them
With visual intensity.

Four different people help lift the wagon.
We are now a grunting team of 5 horses
Stomping the ground
Straining muscles.

For a while
My breath calms
The breeze smacks the sweat,
But the sting is sweet.

The flowers co e to focus.
The grass greens up.
For 200 feet
Until we find more stairs.