Winlock

Suspended In The Moment

Silvered reflection of the moon
on the snow, crisp air
lifts us into the night.
Black walls of forest quiet,
just me and you
stirring up powder
(too cold to be packing).
We are out hacking.
our breath is steam
lost in this dream.
I move you forward,
quiet canter soft hand,
but you're never calm
and you erupt like a beast
remembering the track.
I move my weight up
and off of your back
and you level out,
fluid rhythm of speed,
of muscle and bone
carrying me. Ice
tears in my eyes
and frostbite in my lungs.