I waited for the satellite
to hurtle itself above me
before I could make the call.

Winds swept
across the lip of the glacier
driving ice chips & rock grains
into my exposed frozen-face.

With ungloved fingers,
I dialed direct
to another continent,
heard the rings,
then the pick-up.

The reception was clear,
giving me
45 seconds of converstion
before the icon
disappeared
along with your voice.

I barely had enough time
to say I was okay
before you
were gone again.