the snow is poetry in white powder form
its words slap my cheeks
and glisten upon my nose

still flakes stir from their sleep
provoked by the wind they rise from the ground
in brief, sudden fury

I keep my head down
looking up only to steal glances at
the picture-book in front of me

and to step out of the way
of trucks trudging by
few soldiers on this lonely frontier

the footsteps of my past are covered quickly, forgotten
all the world is open to me now
a white canvas for the brushstrokes of my boots

I step out to the middle of the road
the two yellow lines lie hidden beneath my feet
tonight I don’t need their direction

I recall the nights spent looking down on this street
dreaming from my bedroom window
I’ve pictured myself skating beneath this very streetlight

so I step forward, push off and glide
the latent layer of ice makes for a slippery stage
illuminated by the light of the lamp

I turn my heel, shift my weight and spin
twirling not with the practiced grace of a dancer
but the steady hope of a dreamer

I wish I had a partner
I wish she was here
for tonight I feel invincible
tonight I am light, breathless, infinite