Skiing

 Whenever I get off of the chairlift, I get a knot of fear in my stomach that I am going to fall off of the lift and plunge into the freezing deathbed.

But as soon as I lift my skis, I glide on the powdered snow.

It is a sunny day and it makes the snow glitter like crystals.

As early spring comes so do the birds.

A little bluejay chirps and makes the trees shake.

A slow but steady shard of snow gracefully falls,

I dodge and swiftly make my way to the other side of the lonesome trail.

I swerve from left to right with no noise but the sound of my shifting skis.

As I gaze at the winter mural,

I notice that the blue of the sky enhances the the purple-gray mountains,

and the tips of spruce trees bunch up to make patches of green blobs.

The brisk air caresses my exposed face,

and gently cools me from the heat of the lodge.

As I reach the end I pull my skis together close and speed up to finish the adventure.