Ski
By Jordana Jones
The wind bites
like a passionate lover.
The sun caresses
tempting me away.
The mountain teases,
daring me to . .
and, of course, I do.
The winter spirits
captured my soul
before I could walk.
When I was a tiny
little thing, tapping
the window impatiently
as the dancing snowflakes
laughed at me
on the other side
of the glass.
When I was old enough
to open the door
and run outside
I did.
Running and rolling
and laughing
in the snow.
Lovers come and go,
but winter is
my soul mate.
Jordana Jones writes about skiing and snow whenever she breaks a bone and can’t be out there.
Want to participate in Circadian Poems? Read our guidelines here.
________________________________________________________
0 Responses to “Ski”