The Goat

Every old house kept an animal. The carriage, the crocodile, the pony at the chest. Ours is the goat.

We chose it for the mountain. The goat climbs where the ground gives out and moves without weight, sure of every step. And for what the letters spell — the greatest, said plainly and meant.

You will find it small and often. Embroidered tonal at the chest of a polo. Debossed into the hardware. Stamped beneath the heel of a shoe, where only the ground sees it. It is never large. A signature, not a slogan.