I am from the month of the gladiolus and the peridot,

and the same year that four planes scarred America. 

Although I’m born from the heat, I am from the winter's wind.

I am from sliding down the slippery slopes to carving down the curvery hills, from face of powder to face of excitement, rush of fear morphed into adrenaline. Gone with green circles I strive for black diamonds, looking for challenge to do damage, battling weary weather I need no warmth,

for I am from the winter’s wind.

I am from hand on the brake to finger on the gas, listening to howling wind whirl around in my helmet. From back of the group to leader of the pack, I have shown I can handle the task. Racing down the trails, whipping through corners, I show no fear. “If you feel like you're sinking, don’t start thinking, just go.” Speeding up, never slowing down,

for I am from the winter's wind.