Bon Viveurs
Besides the hum of the ski lift the air
going up was quiet, or so I thought.
Then I heard your voice in careless
happiness break the ash-day spell.
I watched your skis swinging ‘neath
the chair and presto you were a girl
sitting on a summer dock grazing
the surface of snow’s more dominant
form. That much, like grace, would
have been sufficient but bon vivants
from Tuesday had thrown mardi gras
beads in the spruce leaving the trees
carnival-flocked, and your laughter
the star on top. From one chair back
I was like a boy at Christmas who’d
gotten everything he’d asked for, so I
stayed still, listening to the warm.
“…so I stayed still, listening to the warm.”
Love this picture. Beautiful as always.
Carol