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Ode to a Mountain Named Bear by Jamie Kempton By air, by land, by sea, we flock, To renew old ties, to reverse the clock. Come Thanksgiving Day, two days hence, At high noon, rain or shine, the memories commence. We trod these hills in the bloom of youth, For fun, for sport, for play, forsooth! And now we return, less sure of step, Possessed of heart, if not of pep. The call of the Bear! Listen! Can you hear it? It echoes off the mountain, the mantra of a spirit. Down sweeps the sound across Hessian Lake, Fall’s multi-hued coat shed bare in its wake. We heed the call, we toe the line, For school, for self, for team, for pride, The pre-race nerves come tingling back, An unbidden reminder of the panic attack. But the starters gun Pierces the tension, And unleashes emotions, Some we cannot mention. Three miles to cover, Too far, we confess, But when the Bear makes a bargain, It’s no more, and no less. The jaunt around Hessian, So inviting and free, Belies the price one will pay To the Hill, you shall see. Many a runner, full of will, Has arrived at its base, Then the Hill claims its due, And the runner quits the chase. But to forgive is divine, And the Bear’s made a pact, To pardon our frailties, If we can finish intact. So onward we are led, Past the Inn, single file, To bid farewell to Hessian, To conquer the final mile. Across the grassy plain we charge, Finish line in sight, Winding down our yearly tour, Transported by its flight. And when we gather at the Inn, Our successes we shall toast, A promise made, a promise kept, By the Bear, our kindred host.
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