The Nancy Flyer

by Meg J. Petersen

A stagecoach epic.
Imagine the slow, rocking pace
of a Concord Coach up mountain trails,
slower even than walking, close-fitting, cramped,
people huddled in their awkward
costumes, crammed tightly into this
conveyance.  Why did they come?
Do high mountains simply beg
to be climbed by any means,
or was it just a thing to do,
to say they had done it,
like Disneyland,
or the moon?