Once so long ago here beneath the pines, my mother stood straight like an arrow
in the falling snow watching her grandchildren learning to ski
for their first time like Norsemen all of us returning to our
roots, the snow, the mountains, the cold runs through our
veins and I long to see the Fjords and I imagine
the sound of a horn calling from our past
and the shadowy forms of dragon ships
appearing in the mist under the one
watchful eye of Odin as our
raiding party lands to
plunder gold and
jewelry before
dawn and
redistribute
the wealth as
it were before
we found the oil
under the bottom
of the North Sea by
Thor’s hammer we all
will sail away into eternity
what secrets live beneath the sea
waves crashing over our forgotten sins
so we can only remember the past’s glory
as we race down this mountain side by side
spraying the powder with each turn one step
ahead of the inevitable avalanche of humanity
I hear her soul calling me from beyond the grave
urging me to ride the back of her great white steed
an equestrian until the very end riding out to meet a
dawn in snow too deep to walk in, I hear his neighing
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