High The Hill Poem by James McLain

Night can't wake, dawn moves them up;
and twilight moves to pass day by.
Where upon this road it makes us high.
Why do our eyes refuse to see, what few
have seen before and fewer this, than one.
And where it is I am, you can not bear to be.
So high up here, so high upon that hill, below.
Where all here turn and have to walk below it.
You turned around to leave and one stood up.
Alone.
Like all the rest unable to believe, what they
have seen up there, so high upon that hill.