Flight Through Matter Poem by Keltan Carroll

Blankets of velvet fall thickly on peaks,
Flowing, soaring through, and through,
Cutting like sushi, the board is my knife,
Paving through valleys,
Plowing through mounds,
Shifting, changing, skidding,
Stop.
The sky, purple, orange, red,
Back up top, where the wolf stands alone,
Howling satisfaction, of the days swift rides,
Flickering flames, blankets are sought,
For the day has gone,
But the powder remains.