Dozens of eyes
Focussed on the game
One pair finds the lens
With a Mona Lisa smile
The only face
I can’t quite read
Dozens of eyes
Focussed on the game
One pair finds the lens
With a Mona Lisa smile
The only face
I can’t quite read
Along the way
Seeking the deep powder
The cruisable hard pack
The soft moguls
The challenge
Is not so much the hardships
But remembering
What trandscending
The hardships brings
But point him down the hill
He’ll let them run
With surprising grace
And fluidity
I roll through
On two wheels
Climbing up
Flowing down
Cornering
And gliding
In flight
Amongst
The verdant
Clouds
Like an oval
Cleared of snow
On the surface
Of a frozen lake
Betwixt and between
Whistler and Blackcomb
And miles of untracked snow
The last thing on your mind
Is an avalanche
But it shouldn’t be