Watching You Ski

 

A tiny sparrow

flaps her wings

in my chest,

              fluttering,

              fanning,

              frightened,

her song a perfect

mirror for

your glacial world.

 

 

She’s mesmerized,

watching you

pierce the virgin

mountain snow

              on screen,

              on skis,

                             that create furrows

                             as you go,

                             my skin as snow.

 

Silent music spilling

covering everything,

                 everywhere

with quiet flakes of snow.

 

Watching you take

what’s yours,

              twisting,

              turning,

              conquering

the cold mountain air.

 

Out of focus:

it’s only the camera

stealing you

              (momentarily)

                             from my view.

 

Swift and daring,

              oh, so daring,

I have become

in heartbeats

              just a few.

 

Weightless

as a snowy owl

on her winter's wings

              floating,

              gliding,

              sluicing,

through the

              freshly

              fallen

              snow

                             I go.

 

The majestic mountains

their celestial views,

your breath as dew…

everything you do

                             I do,

a perfect part

              I am

              carved brazenly

              out of you.

 

Suddenly

ominous trees

              looming,

              unwavering

              ahead,

flinging thunder

at my musings.

 

In that instant:

                             I become I

                                 and

                                           you

                                           become

                                           you.

 

I hold on tight

say a silent prayer

but you continue,

                             unheeding,

              carving,

                             carving

                                           the freshly

                              fallen

               snow.

 

Swift and high

              so deftly

we turn left,

                             then right

leaving blue welts

on trails,

these white,

beautiful trails.

             

              Oh, so daring

I have become

in heartbeats    

              just a few!

 

© Sreedhari Desai