Prompt 13: Activity

Steel edges cutting the snowy ledges
Waxen wood flexing on the precipice
Snapping and cranking of ratchets
Hands gloves against the wind
Brushing and shaking the crystals
Waken the system
Cold attempts at oxygen
Fill the lungs. Thumping.
Then comes the plunge
A swooping, weightless glissade
Accelerating on down the line
Until fear overpowers gravity
Toes take hold by the nose
Filetting a fresh path
For the heels to countersink
Surfs up
The tumbledown.
Now I dig.

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