At one point, Simon's nameline on Mono was "red flare against a blackened sky".
So I sent him the following greeting.
I thought that there could never be
a mountain smaller than a tree.
Yet skiing down the mountainside,
with baggy trousers flapping wide,
I saw a mighty pine tree loom,
and plummeted towards my doom.
My trousers caught upon a leaf,
(my skis flew out from underneath!)
I grazed my bottom on the mud,
(my trousers soaked with so much blood!)
I crashed into that mighty tree,
(my skis exploded, peskily).
The people hurried to my side,
but waited till the fires died.
My blood-stained trousers fluttered near
the burnt remains of skiing gear.
For that was all there was to see:
red flares against a blackened ski.