No soul in sight

It’s getting light,

The air is crisp,

Beneath the wisp

Of clouds that let

The sunshine get

To shine on me

Before I ski.

 

Okay, so I made that up; I’m not going to ski, but I can imagine and dream a little.

 

But those who stand there on this hill,

Are feeling anything but chill.

Filling  lungs with crisp, clean air,

Joyful and without a care.

Oxygen revives their brains,

As the plaque inside them drains.

O-k-a-y…

I must stop this silly rhyming,

As I’m losing all my timing.

***** 

Have a happy 2025.

Thank you, Pat, for the photos.