ENGINEERING THE MOUNTAIN by Michael Docker

They are engineering the mountain now;
Streaking steel across the fell,

Wire-caging wild boulders,

Gluing bridges over precipices,

Marker-painting dangerous edges.

Tools and nails on the shoulder

Of the mountain fence the sky. The hill

We played on! Like a builder's merchants now.

Once we scrambled teetering cliffs somehow,

Vibram soles an inch from hell.

Parks are safer now we're older

But who fidgets over precipices

In our place? There are no badges

Fit for 'scenic trails'. It grows much colder

On the mountain, the hot sweat of skill

Has all gone. Like a DIY store now.

Who needs mountain-factories anyhow?

Snowdon an office landscape? Go to hell.

Authorities should be much bolder;

Put a gadget at fell-entrances

That locks a gate on grockles*, bodges

Holes in tourist's heels. Hold a

Guard on the mountain: "Who may ascend the hill

Of the Lord?", He only who is pure, now.

                *Derogatory term for fair-weather walkers.