A petite slice of moon shines little light
On the lake's frozen, pristine ice.
Tiny air bubbles, like microscopic stars
Trapped in blue-black glass.
Snowflakes gently fall and softly sing
as they collide with the frosted land.
She wobbles on skates hoping not to land
Hard when she falls. A glint of light
Reflects the moon on metal blades that sing
As she reclaims balance and glides across the ice.
Her song, etched behind her in cold glass.
Snowflakes gather on her hat - a cluster of fallen stars.
She lets herself feel like one of those movie stars
A gig, she tells herself, she could never land.
If she gazed into that immortalizing glass,
Her eyes would squint in all the light.
Her stage is here. Dark and made of ice.
At her performance, the night itself begins to sing.
Wolves, a hundred, or maybe just four, sing
Howling their own song to the stars.
Echoes of skates scrape fresh ice
Bounce off the snow-cloaked land.
But a bitter mystery lurks in the lack of light.
A silent fracture creeps through fragile glass.
It branches out like tree roots. Weakens the glass.
Oblivious, she is content enough to sing
While she dances in the moon's slim light.
The lake trembles with fear.
And moon watch helplessly, wishing her back to land.
A warning sounds. Agonizing creaks from wounded ice.
Frozen air pierces her lungs. She races breaking ice.
A hat, the only casualty, floats near shattered glass.
With feet on solid, safe, predictable land
Her thoughts turn to ‘what ifs' that loudly sing
A harsh and unwanted song. The stars
Sigh in relief and the moon shines more light.