Jane ran up the slippery slope And slid back down like she had 1000 times before. She changed shoes She altered her stride She invested in a rocket-propelled back-pack But the result was always the same; Jane laying face down kissing the canyon floor. One summer day Jane arrived at a new angle. Born from the remnants of an old rubber tube That lay in waste on the valley floor Spurred on by a coyote and her feathered friend She anchored each end to an old oak tree Tip-toed back and stretched the cord to its limit, then jumped>>>>>>>> Her feet and arms waved incessantly Her hitchhiked mane raced from certain doom That snap that seemed to propel her towards her freedom Still echoed through the tired old ravine As poor Jane once again landed face down At the foot of the canyon door.