Nobody rides the Mountain top when Winter’s locked her jaws.
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Nobody rides the Mountain top when Winter’s locked her jaws.
The Mountain bears the brunt alone, his shoulders to the claws.
She carves great gashes down his flank like butchers flensing sheep
And howl, you cannot know the word. She never lets
him sleep
And on his peak she wrecks her wrath. He reaches Heaven-bound
But she has placed a crown of ice and turned Hell upside down.
My parka hood is fringed with frost. It’s hard to get my wind.
I stand hard on the timberline feeling freshly skinned.
The sweat is drippin’ down my neck. It’s just twenty-two below.