the dance

we rose with it,
through its own storm
into light.
has luck found us?
glancing off snow
light so intense ...
imagine,
burning the roof of your mouth!
sun down ... moon rise
we dance by the light of it,
Tahoma's slow dance.
tethered to life-lines
as low landers
laboring under their burden
we labor for air.
listening to glaciers strain
within the steel blue darkness
twisting beneath a new hot sun

© 2000 Gary Hehn