April 26: On a Riverside Walk

On a riverside walk, I spied a muddy slab 

of ice, glistening wet, melting a bit for the sun, 

wandered there on that path and made a wish 

that I could skip February, and jettison March, 

then the mossy waterfall as I rounded the bend, 

then all that algae. I brightened if only a little, 

leavened a bit, then felt my frigid fingertips 

gripping tight the dog’s leash, its muddy residue, 

and pivoting with resolve both, we moved down 

the salted path, his paws raw, my chapped cheeks. 

I tightened the leash in the hollow of my palm, 

and both the pup and I hastened toward home. 

He quit sniffing all the things, his nose pointed up – 

who knew?! – and me, admiring patches of ice.

After “Taking a Walk Before My Son’s 18th Birthday” by Mary Elder Jacobsen