Avalanche
all is still on this starless night
The mountain waits
Quiescent as a cat
Smoothing crag and chasm
To a white fur
Then against the black sky
Puffs of snow
Flutter from a jutting cliff
Into obscurity
A drumroll utters
From the mountain’s throat
And stops
Reprehended by a silence so intense
That even night
Seems shallow in its presence
High up a front of snow
Crumples and cascades down
Plashing from rock to rock
Spawning further falls
Echoing itself to dotage
In the sharp hills
And again the wound of silence
Bleeds about the mountain
Again the grumbling drumroll
A giant peak
Staggering with ice
Suddenly sags
And booming like a cry
Sprawls into a gully
Tumbles blind with spray
Lurches bounces
Dizzily jazzing downwards
In the outraged night
Now it roars and crashes
Through the squawking snow
Lunges smashes
Into crest and crag
Devours ridges
Pitches over cliffs
Bursts tremendously through gaps
Now booms and rebooms
Thunders and rethunders
As in its rapid shapes
It plunges wildly down
Rifts instantly appear
And craters fill – crags snap off
Like fingers – boulders fly
And down and down
Within its own created
Turmoil of demented spray
Still accumulating speed
This daft fantastic mass
White-hot with bitter rage
Thrashes seethes explodes
Until
Before some obdurate cliff face
Or deep in a ravine
It hurls itself at last
Indifferently to death
And then there is this silence
Too hurt too solid a thing to bear
Beside the foaming mountain
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