She was all in black but for a yellow pony tail
that trailed from her cap, and bright blue gloves
that she held out wide, the feathery fingers spread,
as surely she stepped, click-clack, onto the frozen
top of the world. And there, with a clatter of blades,
she began to braid a loose path that broadened
into a meadow of curls. Across the ice she swooped
and then turned back and, halfway, bent her legs
and leapt into the air the way a crane leaps, blue gloves
lifting her lightly, and turned a snappy half-turn
there in the wind before coming down, arms wide,
skating backward right out of that moment, smiling back
at the woman she'd been just an instant before.
Yes, I know it's June. This was just too beautiful to pass up.
1 comment:
I love Ted Kooser's poetry. I memorized "Abandoned Farmhouse" last year. His imagery is so powerful.
Thank you for sharing this one! I had never read it. :)
~Keaghan
www.whisperabovethethunder.blogspot.com
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