like statues in the distance,
Still wrapped in winter warms.
An almost placid like indifference,
In the way they weather storms.

Some clothes look almost brand new,
Those shades of red and gold.
They look like skiers sleeping,
All curled up in the cold.

The mountain takes a tally,
And it climbs just like they do.
The proof is in the valley,
Their bones still in their shoes.
...