Her skates glide over the ice,
leaving shavings, carving trails.
The air is cold on her face,
which wears a quiet, focused smile.
She is not graceful yet,
catching her balance before she falls.
No twirls or jumps- in spite of that,
she savors the applause-
of air rushing past her face
as she presses, fast, ahead-
of her skates on the cold ice,
their long laces poorly tied.
Faint memories of Michigan.
Is this the girl she should have been?
A perfect wintry wonderland-
she slips and tries again to stand.
Beneath her, time is frozen,
but she must not be still.
It's not too late to learn-
to find that fearless, frozen girl.
