Mount Daredevil
By: Ally Campanozzi
The snow flurries and ice chunks pelt
against the lodge windows. Blinds
half-slit, some frightened faces
still yearn to see more of Weather
doing its best to sound off frantic
alarms and stark choruses
of hysterical, relentless sirens.
The low clouds and mist look
like birthday streamers when
you’re celebrating the mark
defining climbs, treks, chair lifts
heading toward tops of ancient hills.
It’s far too quiet for car engine hums.
Too stone cold for joggers brisk walking
with pets on their leashes. The pavement,
still too slick for skateboards or anything
else driven by a not yet-reinvented wheel.
Some of them are out there, wearing
the badge, braving all the elements.
They’re too high-strung to stay put
in one place for very long. There’s
no concerns about the threats
of blue-black icy scars from frostbite’s
invisible row of hammerhead shark teeth.
Heavy, saturated, and thick.
It’s the kind of snowfall adrenaline
seekers crave when they’re up
there on Mount Daredevil,
taking artic plunges, then
taking breaks to sip hot cocoa.
They twirl fluffy marshmallow
chunks around with plastic
spoons before taking
final gulps and small sips
from hand-spun
clay mugs.
Ally Campanozzi started writing at a young age and has been expanding her passion since. Her background includes a BA in Psychology and MA in Creative Writing from SNHU. Much of her writing comes from a passion for destigmatizing mental health through awareness and empathy. Some of her work has appeared in collections by Wingless Dreamer, The Black Mountain Press, The Bangalore Review, and Quillkeepers Press. She lives in Colorado with her husband and their cats.