All is below me
The shaved treeline
The birdsong and flight
The air weak and thin
I breathe deep and rush out
The steam of me covers
The hiding sun, all is below,
And as arrogance tends to make
A fool out of everyone,
I fall hard and strong.
An avalanche of selves
covering all between the two boards
The mountain king, cracked crown,
Withers quick to old
Leg bones shiver out
Cold and rattle in their black
Waterproof plastic bags
In the steep pass of the valley
I look up with all life
Above me
