stars come sweeping in,
is gone; the night begins.
whisper-falls on flying skis,
hands brush ancient trees.
are near; their feet are light.
fur is smooth in the dark of night.
loyal footsteps linger close
their shapes like great black ghosts.
trees leave us when we reach the lake,
sea of dark snow in the empty space.
of a moose who has led us since light,
to the woods, his job done for tonight.
dry I am in my good winter coat,
skis and boots are soaked.
best feeling here is my face, chill and bare,
the night in the Aurora-filled air.
fly over the ice, warm and cool, limbs light,
of the ski rings in the cold night.
snow-embraced cabin comes into sight,
goodbye to the stars for tonight.