FLAT LIGHT PSALM CROSS ON SKIS

EARLY MORNING SNOW CROSS TO HIGH CAMP

You have granted me this brief existence,

which is almost nothing in your sight.

            Psalm 39

Muy breve es la vida que me has dado;

ante ti, mis años no son nada.

            Salmo 39

You have made my days a mere handbreadth;

the span of my years is as nothing before you.

            Psalm 39

Skiing into fog's white light

fall line disappears, vertigo's

dizziness tips balance, skis

turning into mountain

as the body falls gravity-led.

I don't know, Lord,

am I remembering or forgetting--

stateless, without being.

Out of breath in beauty.

Back on skis, time returning,

towards High Camp,

backpack carrying your word

with coffee, oranges

and promised sunshine,

I recall another poem from an earlier time.

Up top the Mountain's out

above tree line. Glasses pocketed,

one lens fallen from frame.

I see some of what you've given me,

this day's un-rationed range,

Cascades gleaming behind Hogback.

Sitting on blond mahogany bench

matching  finished pine boards,

a table built to hold what we bring.

So much silence presents itself.

Me, a one-eyed man.

How will I listen to even a portion

of the music you provide me?

Jim Bodeen

13 January 2019