The slopes

I’m not afraid to ski on ice, its next to my backdoor,
Outside the logs, my cabin snug, ice IS the perfect floor,
Whose trails are groomed? No snow-cat here, no “corduroy” is dear,
The lay of the land, such curves and dips, familiar and, so HERE!
Oh Trapps NOT stuck in mountains, who sang and who were FREED,

A snowboard turns like butter, and slides on bread? indeed!
And when I ski, I am not spent, I’ve energy for “laters”,
to hike and raft and run and bake and fish( wearing my gators).

The perfect boot, (hard to ID), is elusive and might hide,
But strike a match enjoy the fire, in lodges, boots “reside”.
If life’s a show I’m glad to know it’s featured on big screen,
And frozen might be playing here, was it Walt Disney’s dream?
So try to slide across the ice, the hype won’t get “deflated”.
(The Brady bunch, when out to lunch, EXPECTS to get rebated!)
They say the slopes are crowded, but most roads are not “made”
I’m glad to know that all is well, it’s evil who’s afraid.