Ski Valley Area On Mt. Lemmon, the southern-most skiing in North America (45 min from where we live in Tucson — Images by kenne
Skiing Poem
Wind rushing past my face,
Hair tossing behind my head.
The feeling, the chill, the utter thrill
The feeling I get when I’m flying down the hill,
Gliding across the soft blanket of white,
Weightless as if I were a feather.
Turn by turn, slope by slope, I take on the hill,
The monster of a mountain.
Moguls, jumps I challenge them all,
Wind rushing past my face,
Chilling me to my bones.
I feel the thrill swell, swell
Swell within me until I can’t hold it back.
Swoosh, swish, the snow billows up beside me
Into great clouds of white.
I can’t see a thing.
O the feeling, the thrill the utter chill,
The feeling I get when I’m skiing.
– Anne Cox – Age 11 When Written
Related articles
- Mt. Lemmon Fall Colors And The Story Of The First Ski Slope (kenneturner.com)
- Looking Through The Trees (kenneturner.com)
- Under The Golden Leaves (kenneturner.com)
