Backcountry Skiing
By Suzanne Roberts
I follow your tracks
up the mountain’s spine,
watch the strain of tendons
in your neck. We mark a path
through red fir and lodgepole pine.
At the top, we adjust ski poles, check
the avalanche beacons, sure to set them
search to find. You give me first tracks—
proving your generosity. Before I take
the turn, you ask what I have been
thinking. Only of the pink net
of early evening sun on sugar
pine, the white feathering
of cirrus clouds that vein
a spring moon. A vase
of blue sierra sky—
beauty, this, my alibi.
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