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.

Jim Bodeen

11 January 2017