two lines, parallel, separated by inches
stretch ahead of my skis
to the bend in the trail
a trail rooved by an archway of evergreen and cottonwood
speckled with stars
as a few flakes meander to the ground
inside my fleece is sweat
from burning off the stresses of the day
but those are gone from me now
and i am here
in this moment
arms pumping skis sliding
in this moment, minutes don't exist
because time, time forgets herself
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