Parnassus Lv Poem by Morgan Michaels

When they got down it was near dark and they looked back, amazed that it took them a whole day getting up and there. The sky at their backswas violet-blue-black and a few stars shone coldly and it was November chilly. Nevertheless, the dusty sweat had dried, and their shirts stuck to their bodies and the trail led to a cave, then a stream that ran in the rock, marked with a weather-worn sign. Billy, who could eke Greek letters into words, read the sign after a moment of thoght and said 'Ka-stal-ya', repeating the name more certainly, a second time to the strange young man. But a stream is a stream, so they stripped off their clothes andlay down lenghwise and let the stream rush over them, and they gasped as the violet waters closed over their parts and each rubbed the sweaty dust from his shoulders and chest and from his back. Then, they stumbled out over the broken stones, hooting and laughing, and dressed and walked homeward through the dark, in awe, for the trees on the passing bluff tops looked like crouching lions, or something, but each knew this was fantastic, they were only trees. The next morning Billy awoke and decided hw should become a poet.