A cold and slippery morning.
The sun is still sleeping.
Frozen fingers and frozen toes.
Mittens, hats, jackets, scarves dance in white,
Flickering forward and back, behind and in front of trees.
Occasionally, one disappears.
A long line and then an even longer lift.
The chair is filled with chatter,
Carried away by the cold.
An eternity of waiting leads to a platform,
Smooth sailing turns to boots buckling.
It’s time to take off.
Quiet and harmonious, but focused.
Heel-Toe, Toe-Heel, Heel-Toe
A wintery wipeout with a mountainous mural.
A large army man sticks from the cold,
Forced to make haste by a breathless encounter.
The light of morning is met with oxygen.
Again.
Heel-Toe, Toe-Heel, Heel-Toe
The ride is short-lived.
Again.
A long line and then an even longer lift,
Only ending for the day when the sun retreats to its slumber.