We glide among sleeping aspens
rime ice coating branches above our heads,
a snow cloud under our skis.
Within this gray-sky cathedral
all is quiet except the creaking limbs
as they dance to the wind’s song.
We trek deeper and deeper
into the misty woods
until we meet the Beloved silence and become it.
Our attention stays on the luminous trail,
as we tread along,
careful not to waken this somnolent scape.
One wayward thought
might usher in a whole gabble of thunder
that could spin us off course.
And so we skate along
in the eternal peace,
blissful hearts soaring to the heavens.