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!”