| She was all in black but for a yellow pony tail | |
| that trailed from her cap, and bright blue gloves | |
| that she held out wide, the feathery fingers spread, | |
| as surely she stepped, click-clack, onto the frozen | |
| top of the world. And there, with a clatter of blades, | 5 |
| she began to braid a loose path that broadened | |
| into a meadow of curls. Across the ice she swooped | |
| and then turned back and, halfway, bent her legs | |
| and leapt into the air the way a crane leaps, blue gloves | |
| lifting her lightly, and turned a snappy half-turn | 10 |
| there in the wind before coming down, arms wide, | |
| skating backward right out of that moment, smiling back | |
| at the woman she'd been just an instant before. | |
