Ice Skating
     By Elsie Angel    
Inspired by William Wordsworth’s “Prelude”.

Amidst the icy winds that blast,
Straight from the belly of the north,
I sped, a tangled river flowed behind,
Rejoicing in the overlapping currents.
And blades of steel cut swathes in Winter’s bones,
Sending sparks of diamante fire into the air
To spin amongst the feathers that fall slowly
From luxurious blankets smothering the heavens.
Yet all was silent, save for the soft hiss
Of slim white swords that cut through freezing ice.
It echoed through the soft low sounds of mist,
And joined the songs of mountains to the north.

Adrenalin pulsed through me, fast and pure,
Sending streams of fiery joy into my blood,
The heat turned snow within me into steam,
That emerged, a stunning contrast, warm and soft
Yet freezing almost instantly again.
The feeling was so free that though I felt
My hands, my legs, my regular human face,
I knew I was a majestic albatross,
Princess of the night, the wind, the mountains,
That rise, immortal castles, the histories of earth
Written in them, monuments among the mortal
World that little man is left to enjoy.

Still I sped, alone yet not lonely,
For the snowfall kept me company,
Tracing the contours of my slowly blueing mouth,
I danced like snow to, whirling in the mist,
The slow grey steam that hides unhappy worlds,
And creates a wonderland in which the angels
Surely come to rest their wings in solitude and peace.
Yet soon the mist faded, as did the whiteness of the
Happy day to be replaced with twilight, purple and serene,
But clouded with the blue and thicker fog that hid
Every misty star and even kindly moon, that turned her glow
Into a faint, faint light almost like a pale candle.

Alone, a wolf howled, and I howled with it,
Two voices in wild harmony free as nature
Intended, one high as the chirping starling,
Now long gone to warmer climates, heady and exotic.
The other deep and rich, filled with the memories
Of forests and the warmth of fur,
Of patient hunts and slowly building dens,
To shelter innocent cubs from jealous winds
That seek to chill their bones and freeze their blood.
Together we sang, yet neither saw the other,
Two partners in a dance of voices that curved
Around each other, entwined and yet the bodies
Stood alone.

The cold grew more intense, and soon the warmth,
Of heavy jackets and warm gloves was not enough
To stave off the chill of Winter’s song, the magic with which
He made his dancers, the snow, the little ladies of his court,
Amidst the elegant men of frosty white.
And Jack Frost, the jester dances too,
Lithe steps of joy, and mischievous glints,
Reminiscent of the glow on scarlet holly,
Or the crackle of the comforting winter fire.
And all through this, King Winter watches too,
Then looks to his siblings, gathered three,
With gentle Spring awaiting her sweet turn,
While Summer sleeps, and shields herself from frost.
Auburn haired autumn sings as well,
Despite his resentment as handing o’er his crown
To Winter, who now smiles a frosty smile,
With lips of white, and eyes of pale blue ice.

All this I saw, and more that winter day,
The court, the songs, the burning Yuletide log,
Until reluctantly I sheathed my blades,
To be replaced with softer leather shoes.
And as I walked the lonely path to home,
I saw the inviting lights of heavenly fire,
And smelt the scent of mince pies cooking too,
For Christmas Eve it was, a time of joy.
As I re-entered to the world of men,
I thought I heard a high pitched, faint sound of bells,
And as I turned to find the source of sound,
I thought I saw King Winter bow and wave.
His siblings all save Summer, who still slept,
All wished me a farewell until next year,
When ice would trace the branches of the oaks,
And snow would grace the hard ground once again.