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Snow White
May 12, 2010
The chill wipes my face
and the cold pierces my nose.
This way, that way, snow.
Sweat drips under layers even though it is cold.
What is it that makes me warm?
I feel nothing at all.
One with the mountains I am.
Every time I jump, it brings the board back down,
magnets.
Hard to leave brings me back.
Snow white is beautiful
but she sleeps too long.
We wait for her to wake.
Then we use her.
She carries us down her body.
What a culture we have created.
What a medium we ride.
Once a year makes precious.
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