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Cold air
September 28, 2023
I look down the mountain
It’s like an endless void
I start to go down the mountain
My skis cut the snow like warm butter
It is like I am on top of clouds
The cold air on my face
The air stinging my lungs
I feel a shiver running down
I am flying on snow
The wind violently roars
The cold cut through my jacket
My body shook from the cold
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This poem is about me skiing on top of a mountain in Montana.