by J. Randal Matheny © 2012 UPLift
Bad skiers on the slope were we,
Before the falling avalanche,
In panicked race to eternity,
Attacking time by clock and tranche.
What first appeared a lively sport,
In crisp air and pristine snow,
Revealed a trail all too short,
Full of falls and stormy woe.
The surface gave no certain clue,
On this treacherous, fast descent;
For we who down the mountain flew,
Never asked what the racing meant.
If you’d like to reproduce this somewhere, please read here on reprints. For the web, just please add a link rather than recopying.