A champagne powder day

    by Terrance Boult

A field full of diamond dust that glitters in the sun
calling out the little child that lives in everyone.
We seem like birds just soaring above the silky stuff.
We hoot and we holler as we fly though all the fluff

So bright that it hurts one to look at the landscape white.
With powder flying everywhere --  bug-eyes save our sight.
Our legs start to feel it. As the burn becomes intense,
we head back to corduroy with snow that smooth and dense.

Still sirens sing their snowy song and we heed their call.
Soon we laugh as I crash becoming a powder ball.
My thighs feel like they 're Sterno. I barely can proceed
when we finally reach the lodge to take the break we need.

As regular as goose-bumps are the mounds in the snow.
They prompt the kid inside of me to put on a show.
Hitting turns on time in the moguls so forgiving.
I rock in rhythm thinking, "Oh man, this is living".

White powder explodes forming clouds against skies pure blue
as I recharge my soul making powder eights with you.
To keep the workday daemons subdued and far at bay
there's nothing quite as nice as a champagne powder day.

This was published in the Summit Daily News, September 11, 2004