A similar number appears, all groggy from the previous night's supper
they trailed down 'n' up steep slopes
to....re-assemble and struggle to keep eyes peeled and thoughts alert
wishing and hoping that the journey's theme can convert
HURT is an acronym for weakness
no space for dreaming, too little time to stand still
as the breeze fetch the potent scent of crushed insects and fresly cut leaves to make way
though sunshine warms the surrounding moisture
the weather is perfect to make hay
The clock ticks with personalities as shouts n mumurings NOW contribute to the fog "skid trail!" ......"chop away from the skid trail!!!"
Voices heightened, the feeble frightened that this may never end!
Hunger visits; then moves in without warning
Heavy boots tarry, worry subsides to anxiety
but nature, though ignored, beckons her soothing sounds as weary souls make their rounds: back n forth....back... n... forth
OTHERS....growing bored n numb
nibbling on a crumb
The crowns of trees shook as chilly winds drew near
"only the bottom of the lianas!"...."leave them hanging!"
soon they finished with the tape flagging, then tumbled in muddy trucks
As dazed eyes dragged on sodden tracks
eager to be closed and rested in chilly-warm hammocks!
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