A fool jives atop a mountain
A fool jives atop a mountain in the light of a setting sun.
A fool jives atop a mountain to El Niño’s stir of wind and rocks
The dismal crooning of the winged things above
The faint clapping of the sea against the rock.
Such is the sound track of a fool who jives.
With the cold that burns comes the snow that bites.
The toes turn blue and breathe to ice,
Yet still a fool does jive and jive.
A boy so young and small in stature.
He wears a mask of white like bone.
The fool’s jive has become like one hysteric.
Upon one pile of snow specific,
He laughs and laughs like one demented.
The pile now nearly submerged and iced.
Still can be seen a face turned fully white.
A fool jives atop a mountain and laughs and glides some more.
A fool jives atop a mountain though his life isn’t worth much more.
The fool has stopped his wicked dance yet still a pile does lie,
A pile alone on a mountain, a sun that peaks from above,
The careless whispers of a bygone day as the V-winged things do fall.
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