6 a.m. Saturday morning,
Brothers Bobby and Dylan submit
And accept the snow-grounded car ride to Mount Yeti’s ski ***** with their mother,
Sarah.
The skies resembling a TV screen powered off,
Bobby and Dylan sleepily ponder their future outing:
Their mother likes to ski upward,
Powering against the ascribed gravitational acceleration
That ordinarily compliments the sport of skiing.
On this cold winter morning, with a finger-nail of purple-yellow sunlight
Peering in the distance of Mount Yeti,
Sarah maneuvered the royal-blue Ford F-150 into a parking lot with only one other car.
Two hours past, and Dylan began to moan, faint sights of cold air rushing out his nostrils
As he, Sarah, and Bobby muscle their skis up Mount Yeti’s *****.
As it turned out, the ******* arrived later than they knew it, swallowing
Two more hours of ****** exertion.
Skis finally shaved snow on the head of Mount Yeti and Dylan fainted forward
In daffy exhaustion.
“Get up, dude, it wasn’t so bad,” Bobby teased.
Suppose the uphill battle was worth it, for Sarah, Bobby, and Dylan
Saw the smiling figure of Sarah’s late husband, Warren, swaying naturally
In the early-morning green-blue glimmers of the sky’s auroras.