Tuesday, January 1, 2013

On the Slopes

I wrote this a long time ago, when I was either eleven or twelve. Well, two years ago. Feels like a long time to me.

In the high mountains
With peaks like whipped cream
I swing from the lift
Skis dangling below me
Floating in another dimension.
Snow is sprinkled on drifts
And on my face
Still falling from the sky
The sky, white as the slopes beneath me.
Snow trickles from the trees
Soft waterfalls of milk
Wiping away the tracks of skis
Without a sound.
I watch the jagged black shapes below me
Zigzag their way down
Puffs of white erupting as they swerve
Ants scrambling across a blank page.

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