The morning star
cracked the eastern skies,
splinters of pinks,
brilliant oranges & reds
knifed the blackness,
while ice bullets
pelted my bearded-face.
It was at that exact moment
I knew,
I knew I was alive
skirting sheer ice walls,
certain death on each side.
There was no where to hide,
exposed like that on the ridge,
thinking about coffee and donuts
& the rest of the word.