Criss Cross Lanes On High Hills Poem by renu Vig sharma sharma

</>Criss cross footpaths on the high hills,
seems lines on the map,
some path up some goes down,
down to the gushing water falling on rocks,
who made these paths man or god,
many walk on these paths since time immemorial,
known to hillmen from childhood days,
cattle rear leisurely on the steep edge,
myriad paths leads to different ways,
some to villages others to town,
in the dead night,
a leapord walks on these hill lanes,
leaving its pugmarks for hillmen to fear but in vain,
the hill narrow footpaths are lifelines,
some known and other unknowns to hillfolk in a way.