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.

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