For an Earth-Landing

 the sky sinks its blue teeth
into the mountains.


Rising on pure will

(the lurch & lift-off,
the sudden swing
into wide, white snow),

I encourage the cable.


Past the wind
& crossed tips of my skis
& the mauve shadows of pines
& the spoor of bears
& deer,

I speak to my fear,

rising, riding,
finding myself

the only thing
between snow & sky,

the link
that holds it all together.


Halfway up the wire,
we stop,
slide back a little
(a whirr of pulleys).


Astronauts circle above us today
in the television blue of space.


But the thin withers of alps
are waiting to take us too,
& this might be the moon!

We move!

Friends, this is a toy
merely for reaching mountains

merely
for skiing down.


& now we're dangling
like charms on the same bracelet

or upsidedown tightrope people
(a colossal circus!)

or absurd winged walkers,
angels in animal fur,

with mittened hands waving
& fear turning

& the mountain
like a fisherman,

reeling us all in.


So we land
on the windy peak,
touch skis to snow,
are married to our purple shadows,
& ski back down
to the unimaginable valley

leaving no footprints.

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