All things

All things
are possible this February night.

We skate the length
of the frozen canal
bathing in dim magic
flying long glides
gentle and effortless
past streetlamplit
skaters and ice sculptures
smiling miles down long curves
beneath vaulting iron bridges
named for prime ministers
holding mitted hands nearly
to a copper-roofed parliament
lit, to my stranger prairie eyes
like a story castle
then after we turn
to skate the miles back
we fall laughing
a long time
into a snowdrift
beside a quiet inlet
become giddy on cognac
and each other
before managing
almost reluctantly
to skate our way
back to your warm home.

Come to me now
gray eyed princess of dreams
we'll enter the night again
watch this dim lit city
from the thirteenth floor
ice mist rising
from frozen waterfalls
and tailpipes of cars
on the streets far below
we'll hoard the short moment
as our breaths fog the window
you in front
your arms holding mine
clasped across your chest
under the milky dim explosion
of winter sky and
I'll memorize again a face
reflected on the glass
like painted rain
and imagine
later
the wires of love
singing in a west wind
as you write messages
across the distance
for me to read
under an electrical moon
hung in a saffron foothills sky
when I've gone again.