by Eric Lies

Created on: June 03, 2009

My Mountain

I put on a jacket, to no avail;
frost is embedded in my bones.
As seconds tick the temperature drops,
cold breezes fly my way.
Screaming snow comes careening down,
the flurries burn, a white flame frozen.
Still I go on, shielding my face,
turning my journey into a deadly race.

Ice tongues lick me, like the principals paddle,
killing the flesh by its sting.
My gloves feel like ice blocks,
my boots mounds of slush.
The warmest thing out here are my thermals,
and even those send chills to the core.
Still I trek onward, reaching the summit,
where my mountain meets the sky.
I lookout and smile from atop my mountain,
letting out a triumphant cry.
Then mounting "Red Glory"
I sled down my mountain:
all of its snowy five feet.

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