Standing at the top I see the river in the distance far below
In between this mountainside is covered in a heavy coat of snow
My poles are in my hands and my favorite purple skis are on my feet
My mouth begins to water like it’s waiting for the taste of something sweet
Slipping from the edge I feel a smile slowly slide across my face
‘Cause skiing down this mountain is the closest that I’ll ever come to grace
I wrote this little ditty years ago after a day of skiing at Spirit Mountain.