Damn, damn, double damn

This hill I live on is a very muddy hill...it rains here a lot. Of course those could be my tears, but really, do I cry that much? I scramble up, trying my hardest to gain purchase on the shrubs and bushes. Sometimes when the ground drys out, I can pull myself from bush to bush and I can see the top of this mound. But then the rain comes. Sluicing me in a muddy river down the rocky and scrubbed slope. My hands reach out desperately for something to grab, to hold onto. But they are gone, pull out during my other falls down the hill. I fall on my back in the wet, sticky goo that gathers at the bottom and look up. I can see the top, although it looks so much higher from my lowly position. I know I can make it, I know I will make it. For now, I will just sit here a moment and gather my breath. Tomorrow, I will climb again.