At the bottom of these snow canyons
Heaved into being by machines
The purpose of which
Would seem to be
To prevent
Any break

Whatsoever

From routine

I stand still for fear of slipping

And watch my daughter's Dachshund

Amble to the top
And stay there

For as long as

He damned well wants.

I wait.
She waits.

There is no moving him

Until he will move.

The world waits.

In fact,
It is by them and for them and through them
You find the top of anything at all.

This is a group project.

Thus have we heard from the dog.

Savor this.
And come down when you're ready.

We're here.