Codey Haun

 

The Snowboarder

It’s winter,
The time that’s prime for the chilling precipitation of the mountain-tops.
The snow,
the dust,
the powder.
We go fast in fear of it melting away,
like our fun, should we hesitate to skate
our way to the lifts.
we hop on,                           top.
waiting                        the
to get to

 

Once we’re there,
we slip off the chair
that had so carefully carried us to the peak.
Sliding,
skating over the slick surface of the snow,
On our way to the top of the slope.
A friend takes a tumble,
we laugh for the moment
at such a foolish mistake.

 

Finally
we can see the bottom,
waiting,
expecting,
taunting.
Daring us to gun it down the mountain.
To scrape over the choppy surface
that has yet to be carved by the bottoms of boards.
It’s a new slope,
shimmering like a polished stone.
Cloudy skies watching over;
parent guarding child.
We’re all so excited
to take the hill for ourselves.

 

Eye contact

who will go first?
Seconds, minutes, hours seemingly pass.
When all of a sudden
a stranger passes us by,
down the mountain he goes.
Shall we follow?
The answer’s made for all of us
when I turn my snowboard towards the uninvited guest
that took the hill from us.

 

I feel the air rushing past.
My friends pass,
I gasp.
I need to catch up.
I take a detour,
and hit a huge jump.
They look overhead
and see me above.
Jaws open wide,
are soon filled with snow.

 

My feat was distracting
and left them
synchronized face-planting.
As stoked as I was,
I knew I had to carry on
with the task of keeping speed
while controlling my board.
Over moguls
and the wake
of the mystery rider.

 

Nearing the bottom
I see
some boxes and rails,
Should I hit one?
Too late to say no,
I was already gliding over the top of the box.
I ollied off,
and skidded to a stop.

 

On the ground to my side:
goggles and helmet.
Gazing up I saw the boarder of interest.
The one who had stolen our slope.
I now felt honored to have given it to him
For standing ahead
was the king of the mountain,
the Caesar of slopes,
the baron of boards.
the gerent of jibs.
My dear Shaun White.