SKI TRAIL

I glory again in my annual arctic fix:
The medley of whites and blacks, taiga and tundra
On every side blankets of snow on a hundred
Thousand acres of fields, the marshy mix

Of swelling meringues and dumplings. Only the ravens
Are blacker than the spruce, which yet up close
Convey the faintest darkly ash-green hues,
With bearded moss and light-gray lichens. I savor

The softer breeze today, the sun a misty
Disc. My life-line now is the ski trail winding
Through opens and thickets. Without it I’m lost and blind.
Wind and new snow will erase the track; the distant

Sun will thaw it away, and my guide will be gone,
Like how many other forgotten guides I’ve known.

(91, Sepp’s, March 13, 1993)

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