BEFORE THE SINGING STOPPED
And we were walking, a crowd of us,
nine altogether, or maybe ten, out
across the unspoiled face of the snow,
It crackled underfoot, as thin ice crackles.
The birches hung bone-white against blue skies.
And as we topped the first hill,
we stopped and the others walked on,
across the unspoiled face of the snow’s
Their voices grew fainter, like receding light,
further and further away.
And we turned to take a different route. We saw
a long line of wolf tracks
the glittering snow like a trough
When we topped the second hill, with frosted breath,
you kissed me for the first time.
Once. Then twice. Again.
When we walked on,
distant and indistinct, drifted back,
the unspoiled face of the snow. Stig’s voice,
and Anna’s, and the others, singing.
We walked, not touching,
but nothing was the same
except the snow
and the singing.
JANICE D. SODERLING has published poetry, fiction, non-fiction and translations in many international print and online journals such as The American Arts Quarterly, Beloit Poetry Journal, Malahat Review and Rattle. She lives in Sweden.