marking my way with prints
(they break through the crusty snow to the ice that hides beneath)
the heartbeat that i bring
rises as the distance lessens
between where i began and where she awaits
at the edge.
she grumbles to me about the pain in her thighs
moans that the children,
rowdy and rambunctious,
threw snowballs at her
then commands me to sweep them off;
i do as she bids
sweeping the frozen forms
off her where they landed.
still grumbling she sends me on my way
i trudge back, off course, through the crusty snow
the knowing in my heartbeat rises telling me i was summoned
of course but on a fool’s errand
the distance between the edge where she melts,
then fades away into memory.