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September 1999, Week 3


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"Walter J. Pomroy, CPA" <[log in to unmask]>
Reply To:
Vermont Skiing Discussion and Snow Reports <[log in to unmask]>
Sun, 19 Sep 1999 17:41:34 -0400
text/plain (93 lines)
Long time skivters have heard me wax poetically about “Cemetery Hill”.
Most of you would laugh at my calling it a ski hill.  Though Johnson is
not a big metropolis, living on Rte. 15 and it’s incessant truck
traffic, Cemetery Hill and the myriad of trails leading off it down to
the river was my little piece of heaven.  I could put on my hiking boots
or cross country skis and quickly escape from the stresses of the
world.  During winter I can often be found catching a couple turns in
the waning light of the day.  It was a place to escape the lights of the
village to star watch, or loll about on a sunny afternoon, but... I inspected all the recent work done up on Cemetery Hill.
“McSkiing Inc.” couldn’t have done a better job of vandalizing,
sterilizing, homogenizing, and generally bulldozing all the character
out of the property.  It now looks like a bocce field with a slight list
to one side.  Paradise Lost.

So before I delete it from my hard drive, a final reprise of one of my
fondest moments on Cemetery Hill.  RIP


       Midnight Ski on Cemetery Hill

Cool and crisp, instantly alert
Click, Click, the bindings echo
A left, up the trail, streetlights fade
Eerie iridescence, shadows sketch the snow
A right, into the trees, lovingly pruned on hot summer days
It is dark, I know the way, kick and glide up the ravine
Through the arch of limbs, a portal to the world beyond
Gasping for air, I climb Cemetery Hill

An aura grows, blue, beckoning, warm. Heaven?
The trees step aside, whispering "Come. See."
On high a spotlight, nearly full, limitless in it's glow
Below, a blanket of diamonds, glimmering white
Rabbit tracks, does it see the beauty that surrounds
Inching carefully out, afraid to disturb the night
I enter an ethereal world, silent, still
The apex of Cemetery Hill

Orion and Canis look down upon their realm
In the east, Leo settles down to sleep among the trees
Saturn, waltzing with the Moon, I hear their silent tune
To the north, a delicate mist rises from the river I know is there
The mountains appear to float, free to drift amongst the stars
Time is endless, these sights forever
How many others have stood here and been engulfed
By the rapture found on Cemetery Hill

My bones feel the gnawing of the cold
I stomp and shake, and break the spell
The diamonds below crackle and snap
The snow is hard and cold, unforgiving
It will tug and pull, and try to spill
Any unsuspecting intruder
Who comes to this diametric Eden
To ski down Cemetery Hill

Across the crest I start my glide
Kicking hard for speed is what I want
To the lip I approach, the town alit in the valley below
“Keep to the left, mustn’t disturb the buried spirits”
Over the edge, the pace quickens, drop the knee
The snow softens, confidence grows
My soul takes flight, merges, melds
And becomes one with Cemetery Hill

At rest among the granite steles, I thank my hosts
Time to return to the world of today and now
Contradictions abound within this magical place
Of immortality among the stars above
And man’s short existence upon this land
So home I return, to retire for the night
When I go to that endless sleep, entomb me here
Where beauty and time are eternal, on Cemetery Hill


Walter J. Pomroy, CPA           Jay Peak Ski Patrol- Volunteer
PO Box 280                      Green Mountain Club- Board of Directors
Johnson, VT 05656
(802) 635-1770    Fax (802) 635-9760    [log in to unmask]

  The opinions expressed herein are my own, and do not represent the
  opinions or beliefs of any organization to which I may belong.

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