Stone-hard precipices
dissolve from clouds,
fanged pinacles climbing
giant-daunting peaks.

I labour up less
distinguished slopes,
accepting now I shall never
reach even this summit.

I glimpse a startled eagle
between blue-green
sugar-coated branches.
Before me lies a bridge,

wooden planks laid thick
with undisturbed meringue.
Other winters have been,
and other snows;

more will come.
But through this fall
I shall be the first to tread,
my footsteps changing everything.