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If You'll Walk

If you'll walk, sync your step to match the glide
of rainclouds scudding fast through angled skies
or trip a ragtag rail-walker's stride
one finger on your nose, commanding thighs
to gather, trading easy jouncing blows
with gravity, half-balanced, half undone.
When spring calls, train your hands to sculpt the snows
then watch the sculpture fail. Accept the sun,
as balanced on a sheer, reflective rail
you taste of flowing steel, magnetic pull
of earth and rapid locomotive gale;
the snow in fading greenward leaves you full.
If you'll walk, lift and tread, unbind with earth;
then sculpt, thaw, perish, reimagine worth.

Jan '00