Seeking balance I stand tall
But feel awkward and askew
I propel myself gracelessly
Like some limping beast
A little momentum and I stall
The motion nonintuitive, new
Wishing I could move effortlessly
Or with some control at least
Half dragging, sliding, shuffling
The wind buffets against me, assails me
Cold powder swirls like a dervish
I squint my eyes, half snowblind
I pull my scarf up, muffling
Blocking the wind as it wails at me
I can’t help but feel a bit nervous
Gliding along, one foot in a bind
A directionless monopod, I sidewind along
In spite of myself I make my way
With a jolt I ascend the hill
Hoping I can get off the belt
I reach the top after not too long
And scuttle out of the way
Catch a bit of ice—too cold to melt
I gather all my will
I buckle in my right boot
And rachet the bindings tight
And now with both feet I am bound
Locked to the board
Slightly forward I scoot
And struggle to get up right
And finally make it off the ground
And point myself downward
Immediately I lose control
I scrape my edge and wobble back
I struggle to stand erect
I regain my balance
Too fast I start to roll
I feel myself go off track
My legs struggle to correct
Next thing I know I’m on my back!
For a moment I lay there
Staring at the cobalt sky
Relaxing for a moment before
I attempt another try
Halfway down the hill I push up once more
Defying gravity, thankful I am spry
I focus on my toe edge
And standing up tall
Through the snow I dredge
Then shfit my weight and glide
I scrape down the mountain
Icey and granular
Wishing it were powder
Something to grant me purchase
Something to channel my power
Another run, I pitch head-forward
Landing on the snow covered ice
Realzing more and more
That the conditions are sub par
The wind knocked from my lungs
Feel the shock of the impact
Absorbed in my forearms
I catch my breath
Wonder if I should stick to skis!
Tell myself not to give up
That frustration is a vice
Unwanted, useless
Think positive, concentrate
Several runs, many falls, some hard
My final run bears promise
The montain will not conquer me
Nor will the small hill I ride
With some decent snow and time
Effortlessly I will slide
I turn in my rented board and boots, limp home
My body aching, bending, breaking, bruising,
But happy to have tried