Skiing trip

silently it comes alive

the icy breath of winter flies

With snow among the trees I fade

above the mountain I rise again

The peaks beyond have disappeared

and silence so loud it hurts to hear

and from this perch of solitude

I push my skis down from this view

A whisper now becomes a wail

and I begin to pierce the vail

through the trees we fly with ease

into the shadows of the storm

and all around the snow abounds

as I glide on without a sound…

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