The animal approaching me
on the mountain track
was trotting at a steady pace
and wasn’t turning back.

He wore a crown of pointed horns,
and a regal robe of white.
He showed no sign of slowing down–
I was hoping that he might.

I’d never heard of mountain goats
pushing hikers to their deaths,
but the side was steep, he came on,
clearly unimpressed

by my status as a human
—the species at the top.
Shouldn’t my credentials
force him to a stop?

No, we were just two animals
coming face to face.
The mountain goat was right at home,
while I was out of place.

I climbed up and off the trail
as he kept trotting on
I sat beside a boulder—
it didn’t take him long.

He turned his bearded face to me
as he passed on below
as if to say up here I’m king
in case you didn’t know.

There are still some places in the world,
I’m very glad to say,
where mountain goats can feel like kings
and claim their rights of way.