Ski Bum Sestina

The road is long, to Montana
but it is the place to ski
the name is Big Sky.
Lee Metcalf Wilderness areas, in the mountains,
miles away from people, right up next to the snow,
lungs fill with the minty scent of evergreen trees.

Minds and hearts are locked in the trees,
the dense carpet of green blanketing western Montana,
high altitude, cold and snowing.
People live in subsistence, for the sole existence, of skiing
relief pouring through eyes and throats only at the top of Lone Mountain,
surrounded by mountain, a bit of rock, and enveloping icy sky.

Wind blowing, cutting the parka, chilling the sky
where lichen grow, and far away down are the trees.
Sliding freezing and flying, wind whipping up, skiis sailing down the mountain,
all free and fun in Montana.
Away from insanity, it brings its own culture of the ski,
a requirement: everywhere, white glittering chilling snow.

Hangovers and residual inebriation are irrelevent at the first sign of fresh powder snow,
dreary eyed, they crawl out of their vans and apartments, to look at the sky,
adrenaline, even before slope touches ski.
First run, warm up, dodging the trees
no sense of location, only concentration, no idea of montana
only snow, all day spent bounding through silent powder, up on the mountain.

Summertime, no one can leave the mountain
activities to subside boredom until the next snow,
for miles nothing but big and blue sky.
Skiers kayak, to bury summertime angst, in Montana,
work hard, to save money, to buy new skiis.
Hiking, and biking, still weaving through the trees.

Deciduous trees turn colors, all the others remain just trees,
coating the cliffs and hills, to slide through down the mountain.
Edges are sharpened, bindings are screwed into a glimmering new ski,
the first flakes fall, and everybody is a rabid animal, agitated by too little snow.
The holy angel of precipitation comes from the sky,
and once again, the only thing that matters, is skiing in Montana.

Mountainous Montana, covered in trees,
beneath the awesome enormity of the sky, the mountains are dwarfed,
and all people want, is to ski on fresh fluffy snow.