I guess I don’t mind being called a goat,
Sure footed and persistant.
I face the bitter mountain wind,
turn and gaze into the driving sleet,
grit my teeth against the sting.
That is my strength.

I am a goat for sure,
Seeing the time between storms
only as a chance to fortify against the next.
I don’t always see the bright shining day
for what it is.
That is my flaw.