Soliloquy on a Ski Slope
Above: Yours truly gallivanting in a winter wonderland.
Inspired by a weekend spent on the slopes, a bit of poetry.
Please note: the below is best read on a widescreen desktop or laptop.
Atop
pine-crested
ridge, I stand beside
stained glass of Nature.
To my left, bygone footfalls
of wandering deer. To my right,
constellation of frozen droplets affixed
to branch and bough, adorning each with
straining, glist’ning beauty. Here I stand, boots
creaking, quads burning, mouth panting. There She
waits, brook burbling, snow shimmering, trees swaying.
Tense man. Tranquil environment. One perennial, the other
essential. Which am I? No matter. I’m off — Careening, gliding,
sliding. Violent activity amidst still environment. Air shrilling, ice
scraping, skis carving; cutting sinews of snow both hard and soft,
packed and powdered, icy and easy. Gravity my fuel, friction meager
myth. Down. Down. Down — Until I arrive at mechanical, manmade base.
Below: At base and at rest.
Be the first to hear new White Noise. Subscribe to my free, weekly newsletter below!
