The satisfaction of the crunch under my shoes
Vibration to my feet, crunch, crunch, crunch.
Sprinkling snow, floating in cold hues
Neatly packed on the slats of the old bench.
Pure dust everywhere. Thick but yet light?
The cold tickle on my numb nose, which makes my eyes close.
White all around me, my eyes hurt it is so bright
Icicles colourlessly forming off the snake hose .
The slipperiness is so exciting, skiing on ice,
to fall or not to. The little snowflakes are oddly shaped but perfect.
The colour contrast has to pay the price,
of being turned down, silently saying have som respect
of Mother Nature