The Mountain Man

His long, thick, sandy blonde hair flows to his shoulders
Waving like the water of the ocean,
gently swaying to the side,
but nobody notices.
The solid, black rim of his glasses,
rest on his nose,
but nobody notices.
His big, blue jacket,
lies across his pale skin,
but nobody notices.

He’s strange,
but very unique.

The porch is where he rests on lonely nights,
in the shivery crisp midst of winter,
watching the few cars pass by.

He spends his days,
gliding down the slopes
pushing snow with his titanium skis.
The brisk breeze brought back beauty,
blowing his light colored hair
from his ice blue eyes,
But nobody notices.

His shy, timid personality keeps him distant,
but his open arms are embracing and assuring.

The more I see him,
and the more I speak of him,
the more I want to know the mountain man.