feeling the cold air
hearing the lift and birds.
Snow sparkling like diamonds.
On the first slope I see my shadow.
Off piste powder flying all over you.
Lying in the sun smelling the wood smoke.
Tasting the cheese.
Seeing the sun set from the hut.
Making the last slope through the woods.
Hearing the fire and dogs barking.
Feeling again that special cold air.
Julius C., S3EN