Snow Fever

He saw her on the mountain, smiling from afar
naked as the huntress in a painting by Renoir

His heart cried out with yearning, forced his every stride
and many times he stumbled as he hurried to her side
He scrambled up that mountain, his purpose to fulfill
yet every time he saw her, she’d climbed higher still

And when at last he wearied, he slept right where he fell
in dreams southeast of midnight in a town northwest of hell
where souls enslaved to glory sang a haunting melody
and danced around a maypole till they lost their sanity
Then come the dawn he shivered, and spied as he awoke
a hag upon the summit, transparent in her cloak

He came down from the mountain, at home he closed the door
no longer would he dream of chasing rainbows anymore
Reflecting on a man who’d seen the truth and realized
he gazed into the mirror of ambition set aside

There was no expectation, or comfort to betide
a fool who’d left a daydream, upon a mountainside

I swear I’ll go out of mind if a thaw don’t come soon. Having the shakes is misery enough and it don’t help that I’m down to my last cigarette, but turning to poetry, well, that’s a sure sign of snow fever. Hell, there’s gotta be something a man can… hmm.