Small white crystals float before my eyes, mostly air with a little water, no
two alike, how many must it take to cover this mountainside? 1-2 feet of
this newly born snow rests between me and 100 inches of it's slightly older
cousins. Floating over and through it, the tracks of those come before
like turbulence, I soar to the major stashes amongst the pines, their limbs
saddened by the accumulated weight of insignificant little white crystals,
mostly air, some water. Silently gliding through the quiet trees, powder
returning to the sky with every turn, for a moment I too return to the sky, then
emerge from the trees.....