Snowscape, cold skate, twirling ice dancer, slipping over the Perch below,

The sun-dogs bark and chase her.

She rolls and tumbles on the glossy frigid veneer buffed by northwest gusts.

The journey is swift, a grace filled breeze quickens every glide.

She crouches low in a wide sweeping turn and pushes hard against the relentless zephyr,

smiles and races back to my aching arms.

“I did it!”

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