A climber from Mark Tucker's Kilimanjaro Climb, Mike Wyatt, composed the following poem about his summit day. BLUE SNOW by Mike Wyatt The air is cold, burns the lungs deep – Wish I was in bed fast asleep. Obsidian night – Black as a raven feather. Buttery crescent moon shepherds in good weather. Heavy limbs fight the rocky slope – Trekkers tied by an invisible rope. The echo of fatigue resonates down the line – Fiery meteorite the color of red wine. The air is cold, burns the lungs deep – Wish I was in bed fast asleep. Blindly pushing forward, we pass another team – What is reality? What is a dream? Summiteers from years past whisper in my ear – not give in, for the peak is near. I chase the heels before me repeatedly catching my breath – One unconscious slip could mean injury or death. Tangerine pink color accent the sky – It’s pure silent beauty is no lie. The crater rim now in sight – Ebullient hikers descend in weary flight. Icy dry wind burns my face – Tired scarred boots don’t leave a trace. The air still cold burns the lungs deep – I’m glad I am not in bed fast asleep. For the glacier’s blue snow is still cold, hard and deep.