On my walk this morning
around the lake that’s heard me
cry, laugh, mourn, and celebrate
I fell
legs in a front-and-back gymnastic pose
and breathed out a small white cloud
I rose
back on my feet like a long jumper
and avoided leaving a trail mark on the snow
I walked
and a man dusting snow off the windshield
pretended he didn’t notice
I looked
to my watch for distance—proof
I didn’t hole up all day wrestling a character
On my way back this morning
from the lake that’s heard me
talk and sing to myself
I stopped
responding to the chattering calls
magpies perched up high, refusing my camera
I listened
to the light wind tossing snow into dance
its song so clear it shattered the ice in my gut
I praised
a soft landing, deep snow beneath
sky above a colour of glory
I wrote
the message down:
This is the year I stop ghosting my dreams.
