The trail rises, higher and higher.
A left foot lifts and slaps down,
bringing along a skyscraper of bones, stacked
helter skelter above its webbed base.
A right foot lifts, the skeleton rises and falls,
rotates, twists, strains upward, off balance
As a rickety shack, almost toppling,
But not quite.
At the summit, the bones settle to the ground,
elbows propped above raised knees, hands folded,
spine rests in a gentle curve, head tilts back. Still.
Linda Townsdin 
Very cool. I like it!
Thanks, Dennis! How’s your fantasy story coming along?
Really well, though it has taken some unexpected turns. It is not what I originally imagined I would write. But, I like whats down so far.
Yes! Wonderful poem, Linda! Love the “skyscraper of bones” image, as well as the whole concept of them climbing, that spine resting “in a gentle curve.” Stunning!
Thanks, Jan! And thanks for the great prompts at our Fri. write. It’s a work in progress. 🙂
Wonderful!