FIRST HIKE OF THE YEAR

by Mather Schneider

She bends her knees like a paper deer
into the tiger-stripe shadows
on the forest floor,
slides down pink
petal-thin panties
and drops tiny champagne piano keys
onto the earth.
I pull her to me
before the froth can settle, shake wild
salt onto her tongue
and shove my stiffened taste into
the coveted nerve between
the two perfect halves
of spring.
She reaches out to the old rough skin
of an oak tree and tries
to shove it over and ride it
down the sheer face
while from my
cramped toes I shoot
ropes of snow
into the hot syrup of
our blood.
Sometimes it feels
so good to
get away from
the city
and into
the mountains.