Below me are vast vistas and I think I have done it all. And help is something I brush off like tiny snowflakes on my massive shoulders. The air is here is rare and forbidding, most of you feel dizzy but not I.
I changes the clouds at my pleasure, like play-doh structures I inscribe wit. Then I chuckle as philosophies are made, some silly cottage industry for those with shutters. The ice and snow with their biting teeth surround me. They sit on trees and fall with a thud. You better not stand there. Just saying.
I like to laugh but not too loud or I wait for the spring to cast off this shimmering shroud. As it does I permit streamlets to form, with water so pure but only I can drink. I might let you take a sip from others for sure, but I won’t let you ingest the sum of my I best.
by Larry Olson, 01/15/2014