Snowstorm

Mittens cautiously hold a steaming cup
Hot sweet tea and chocolate–the secret formula
We huddle leeward behind a boulder
White-out rolls over us like an angry dragon
Your eyes crinkle mischievously
A frosting sheet breaks off my bandana
Storm tugs my outer layer
Yet the dragon’s talons can’t reach me
Snug as a bug in a rug I am
Thick insulation sheet: we can sit on the ground
It’s big enough to wrap us both in an emergency
A rescue helicopter is circling climbers on the north face
You offer a chocolate bar and I swap you tea
Our ascent only needed shirts and I wondered if we over packed
When lugging all that stuff up the hill
I smile at the ice dragon and sacrifice a sip of sweet tea
Definitely not
Scottish mountains are like that
Never underestimate the power of your elders
Even if their smiles are tooth gapped and worn
A laugh bursts forth I barely catch it above the roar
In response I spread my arms
A sliver of blue breaks through the furry of crystals
We watch as they slow their dance
The dragon goes back to sleep
I remove my snow goggles and we grin at one another–untamed

snow clouds begin to sink into the valley the rough mountains tower around us

Asthma Attack

I can barely lift my feet.
Lungs held in a vice of worry.
Frozen uproar hits my face
straight on.

I am a fish drowning on land.
Breath does not translate.
All energy is draining
out of me.

Snowstorm, inner storm.
Anxiety rising way beyond.
The taillight flickering
in and out.

Everyone is up ahead.
And yet the hill keeps rising.
I wish I were just tired
or a bit puffed.

That’s likely what they think.
That I am a drama queen.
Who just can’t handle
some discomfort.

I’m wading through treacle.
Longing for medication
that translates breath
into life.



No Adventure Time

I want to be on top of a mountain
I want to drift on the ocean
I want to dig naked toes in sand
I want to slide down a slope on my bum

I want to jump into the ice-cold sea
without my steamer
I want to camp wild
hot coffee without creamer

I want to fight my way uphill
I want rain in my face and wind in my hair
I want to cycle through overgrown woods
I want to race downhill on my bike
I want to smell pine resin
I want to smell petrichor

I want to hear the silences
The silence of the ocean
The silence of the forest
The silence of bare feet on grass
The silence of the wind

I want to breathe in freedom