fills the land.
forrests of trees
slow the seas
and the flow stays on the slopes.
i slide and slip and clunk and fall,
i part the water with my board,
i swim and fly thru the fluff.
my focus is narrowed,
sky and trees and snow and me -
from the rest of life i flee.
down to the chair
that takes me there -
up to the top, where the frozen air
burns,
blown snow fills my beard,
my lips hide as best as they can,
they are a casualty of my plan,
to return below
to the cold white sand.
Copyright Nov. 28, 2004 X Mackay