RIDING THE NORTHERN SKY WITH CHILDREN
FOLLOWING CHILDREN DOWN THE MOUNTAIN
On skis, watching their snow lines
falling, each of them with their own dance
and way forward, knowing they've found this
with no language. Their rhythm
born from their eyes and pursuit of the other.
No one has told them, Set your edge, release your edge.
Roll your ankles means nothing.
Find a steeper line and down up down
doesn't sound like song to me. Only this,
Have fun. How can you ski
if you're not singing? Find the music.
Turn and go is what we do. Over
and over. Turn and go. Children
seeking bumps and trails through trees.
11 January 2017