Gregory Leonelli The NotchI sit upon the crooked bench Atop a winding trail My numb frozen fingers groping For the straps at my feet Standing upright, my legs feel trapped I wiggle my cold feet Back and forth to begin sliding As I near the entrance Of the trail, gravity pulls me Speeding downhill, cold bites my face The trapped feeling leaves my legs The trail makes a white, curvy line Hits a vertical drop Look, to the left! A cut-through path Banking sharp-don’t miss it, I enter eyes wide, drifting through The mounds of ungroomed snow Navigating trees, fighting hard The exit approaches I see a drop, my board plunges Off the ledge, I’m flying Snow flies, I glide toward the landing One edge hits, other edge hits Slowing down, life’s back to normal It’s over, just for now
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