Times Like This

I stand on the edge of Birler,

feet locked into my skis,

ready to fulfill my craving 

for excitement.

I don’t know what drives me

to dive into the woods,

but I do.

 

My instincts propel me between trees

and all else leaves my head.

Only the present matters—

not the past, not the future.

 

I carve back and forth

between trees 

as my skis scrape

 on icy chunks.

 

I live for times like this:

to escape from reality,

to enjoy the world’s wonders,

to become myself.

 

 

 

 

Henry Kerr

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All poems are copyrighted 2019 by their respective authors and may not be used elsewhere without their express permission.