Fall Is Just An Appetizer Poem by David Welch

Have you ever known a skier's mind
when the leaves turn yellow and red?
As frost forms before the drive to work
and the lawnmower is put to bed?
When all you feel is a bracing chill,
and southwards all the large birds have fled?

The first taste of what is lying in wait
will start a snowstorm within our minds.
While leafers drive, see orange and brown,
inside of our poor brains you will find
a landscape painted all up in snow,
we keep watching the low temps at night.

See Fall is just an appetizer,
not a final flourish before sleep,
taunts us with hints of snow on the air,
we start praying that it'll fall deep;
doing a snow-dance, gifts to Ullr,
do not let this year be mild, please!

Reading what's new at our best mountains,
web-site says they'll be opening soon,
a ribbon of white amidst the brown,
spotting those first tall snowmaking plumes,
can't wait for frigid air in my lungs…
I don't care if you think I'm a loon.