Written by Randal Vincent Berke

The skier on the mountain slope, criss-crossing on his way,

The speed of the skier was passed, by a strange looking sleigh.

Winding round the trail ahead, with eyes on nearby trees,

The speedster leaned with accuracy, avoiding obstacles with ease.

With blinding speed he took the curve, racing merrily down he came,

With rosy cheeks and trailing scarf, he now entered a crossing lane.

Now veering slightly to the left, he astounded nearby crowds,

One hundred yards of emptiness, the cliff edge and floating clouds.

A gasp was heard as over he went, the boy on sleigh out of sight,

The sleigh you see was something else, it was  r e a l l y  a fold out kite.