We are slalom skiers, feet-high
bodified beings dependent on
inches-wide thin board to keep us
aright and alert to the unpredictable
weight of water, or the studded
terrain, with obstacles requiring

(given the bullet train of events)
near-instantaneous dodging when
neither surf conditions nor topo
maps can be consulted, eyes,
hands, and feet preoccupied as
they are with coordinated maneuvers.

Tumbles, even vertigo, are inevitable.
Do not assign animus in the
waves’ collision, or the
mountain’s jagged contours.
No one passes through
unbloodied. Make them count.

Leave the drops in the water
to sharks’ hunting prowl,
those in the snow for the
curiosity of wolves. Press on,
til the sun’s setting
calls it a day.

©Ken Sehested @