Little ski
Thy winter's play
My thoughtless legs
Have skied today
Am I not a ski like thee?
Or do you pretend
To be a rider like me?
For I am buckled and outfitted
In the latest cool
Till some ice sheet
Or rock shall
Tear my tendon
If skiing is life
Free-winging ripper rush
And the desire of hanging it up is death
Then am I a happy ski
If I carve
Or if I die.
27/2/14. Grand Montets
