calmly
contemplating the heights
above him
and the suddenness of blizzards
and the
magnified trickle of snow flakes
blowing
into, over, around one’s body,
filling
one’s freshly made tracks
like foamy
whipped cream on hot chocolate.
And he
thought about the fiery hot core
of the
planet beneath him, way down inside it,
flames
leaping up to drip sparks on the bottoms
of the
continents. And he fantasized about vanilla
ice cream,
pleasantly cool, sliding down his frozen
throat to
chill the burning in his belly, to remind
him of all
the peaks still waiting to be climbed.
(Originally appeared in FortyOunceBachelors)
