It's Coming...

In a matter of hours it will spread across the valley like a plague, drifting from home to home, street to street. It will come with numbers, it will come with strength. Anxious bystanders quiver in anticipation, they crave its arrival. Only it can procure the fix the desire, they are addicted to its unnatural qualities. Once it is here they will flock like sheep to the hills. Soon all that they will see, here, and feel is whiteness. Diving into its bounty they become lost, without conscious thought. Only gentle softness will they feel underneath their feet. Floating deeper into the white plain, they surround themselves with cold smoke. It drifts over, under, and down their throats, choking them one at time with its frozen bite. Even so they find it impossible to stop; only strengthening the addiction with every run. Who are they? Skiers. What is it? The wondrous, most satisfying form of water, snow.