Bits, pieces, inspired by peaks, open spaces:

Reach into the self

on the ridge

to the summit

fingers feebly grip frozen granite

a gale beats your back

body presses into mountainside

in the hardest of places we see ourselves best

heart skips

stomach lifts

knife ridge bottoms out 1,000 feet below

yet wide eyes gaze boldly instead

at pristine snowpeaks of the mountainscape

in nature’s sacred spaces we see ourselves best

hunks of rock, ice and snow (mountains)

exemplify man’s inability to control his surroundings

try he may through blasts, mine pits, weather forecasts

when the avalanche slides,

when the blizzard buries the ridge

and all else

we are the same the earth the snow the granite

the mountainside

we are.


Disconnection, longing

homesick not for place but for people

those people, those old friends people,

familiar faced people encountered en route

to this lofty place, these open spaces.

girl sits alone among high mountains

girl sits alone

alone a mountain.

Sometimes–and only that–

the aspens, evergreens

granite faces, limestone cliffs

powder fields, river rapids

just aren’t enough.

And sometimes


I so wish that they were.


Powder Days

Powder falling so hard

so fast

we gasp

and giggle as it melts on

tongues and ski tips

Swish swish

tele turns

dropped knees legs lunge


a long arcing S

in thigh-brushing fresh



glittering confetti fills

my goggle vision

tops my pompom hat

at the edge we pause

glance down heart stopping steep

carved into cliff edge––

you nod my way

Cheshire grin stretched wide

brown curls coated

in thick white snow


together we drop, cascade down

velvet vert like water from a fall

skis float like boats sail

poles barely brush

lungs just breath

hearts beat hard

turning, turning, turning


Our bodies silently sing

as the snowflakes fall

flakes gently fall

as each turn takes us

closer to home.