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At the top of Sugarloaf Ski Resort 
Dave and I had blue sky and infinity views
all below was fogged in 
a heat inversion made a lumpy potato field 
of DownEast mountain tops.

Ruth and I were there in 40 below
the ski shop covered us with high-tech wear
not even a pinch of cheek was left exposed.
We crawled across double-black-diamond ice
skied the longest New England downhill run
and in the dark of night 
steamed the starry sky
from the bubbling outdoor tub.