The Mountains

My straight eyebrows, my eyes constantly slumped, bored, scanning slowly, uninterestedly

My lips relaxed, unmoving,

Suddenly shift for the first time in a long time,

Sparked to life as crucial and sudden as the first breath of a young animal, just born,

Who almost didn’t make it

It’s the snow, like beautiful white frosting covering the trees

No, it’s the air, crisp and shocking to the lungs, that causes my skin to tighten and come to life

No, it’s the dense, grey clouds overhead, that reach, like desperate fingers into the trees

No, it’s the powder under my snowboard or skis, the prospect of the slope below me

No, it’s all of these things

It’s the mountains themselves

It’s the mountains that bring out my straight teeth into a smile

It’s the mountains that excite every inch of my skin, every fiber in my body,

It’s the mountains that I can’t live without