Peak Season

Peak Season

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Sid Gustafson

In your confounded struggle

For originality, nights lengthen.

Snows flicker… drift… and fall…

Heat departs the landscape, after all.

Flurries list in; holding, cold.

Spines of stone lace the snow.

Lonely Peak gone to the skies,

Saddled white, sloping bold.

Dendrites pique my memory—

Graupel stings your summer skin...

Wind blows,

eyes water,

Storms deliver our rime of sin.

The tram lingers

Patrol say no.

Pow dreams work

Your skinning soul.

Blue Sky waiting. Lone Peak true.

The wolves be howling

Just for you.

Skin your mountain,

Ski your due.

Tram that wonder,

Drop your shoe.

Gravity Flourishes

Swing Rules

Turn Rhythmic

You Hearty Fools.

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