The Hill

Sitting aloft
Gazing below
People of all types going below

Snow falls from the skies
Adding to the endless scene of white
Puffs of powder dot the hill
As people turn for a thrill

The end nears as I set myself
To launch off the chair
Out of sight
Into the unknown
To the drop

The wind flattens my coat
As my nose goes numb
Flying faster and faster
Cutting each turn to ribbons

Up and down my knees go
As my skis float over the snow
Into the air as the earth stops
Then back down in a puff of white

The bottom is in site
Turning bigger I slow
Until I am just gliding on the snow