Freezing breath of winter nights needle exposed skin, sanding away layers to nip at the nerve endings. Exhilarating, pulse quickening with each swoosh, skis slice through fresh powdery snow. Winding downhill through shadows of trees, I dream of James Bond fleeing the goons of SPECTRE.
Halfway down, a swift cut back leads to the precipice, a field of moguls on a deep decline into the darkness. Digging edges, dragging momentum to a stand still I peer into a pregnant pause.
Whispers cut through the limbs of the silent watchers, doubts on the wind. Heedless, I plummet. Knees like shock absorbers, zig, zag, hop, pop. For a few brief moments I soar on eagles wings, before grinding to a halt on my face.
Shovels of ice and snow avalanche from mouth and nose, as I lay gazing into the clear night sky. Crisp air cuts sharp into the recesses of my lungs. Each star twinkles in delight, a sun in someone else's sky.
Sometimes I think grace is found, not in being saved from the fall, but laying prone at the bottom and still being able to enjoy the view.
Are you alright?
Yeah, just appreciating the beauty...
So you hit your head?
Hands under arms lift me to my feet once again and I kamikaze down the last slope to the lift, sit in the swing and head back for more.