Night Ice Skating
I don’t ask to do Olympic jumps and spins or
head down, one arm behind my back race skating.
I just wish to stay up 10 minutes on my skates
in the middle of the night down a frozen river
surrounded by trees on shore looking like
bookends in the darkness. Just 10 minutes to do
what I‘ve never been able to do: skate without falling,
my scarf air born like the ones on kids in Norman
Rockwell paintings. Just 10 minutes to propel
myself down a river, my skate blades engraving
the ice, my gloved hands out like a surfer,
a January moon lighting my jubilant way.
Previously published in The Stillwater Review