Prospect Bowl

This is the freedom
that is yours. Yes, the wind
that roars to lift you away,
skis mounted on your shoulder
like a kite unfurling with each blast.
Yes, the ridge line that grabs
your boots and dangles
you over the seamless
sky. Yes, the icicles that grow
between the nose and mouth,
your watering eyes,
and frozen hair forgotten.
And yes, the rush
of silence as your skis hang
over nothing before tipping
into white gravity. Yes,
the motion of the body, the stillness
of the mind. Yes, the wanting. Yes,
the stepping outside. Yes, the giving
of yourself to this. Yes, the falling,
the surrender, the touching
of a beauty that could breathe
your life – yes,
yes, yes.

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One thought on “Prospect Bowl

  1. Yes, been there…

    52 Gravity

    Falling,
    falling,
    into the trees
    below,
    my body floats,
    my spirit glides,
    I scream my delight,
    then carve a turn,
    so sweet…

    snow flurries behind me,
    as I pick a new line,
    then fall…

    and once again
    give myself
    to Gravity.

    Jan. 10, 2014

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