Five Flakes

Among the Widow Wyile’s friends
are several cross-country ski enthusiasts
so eager each season
they are perfectly willing
to lace up their boots
snap on their worst boards
and merrily ski
after a fashion
hem hem
upon five flakes of snow 

Year after year
the Widow Wyile shakes her head
feels the shudder
rising from her early training
decades ago in a place of more snow
at the prospect of striving
to glide 
        upon minimal
accumulated flake coverage
and so says no no
not enough snow yet
you silly people
thereby shrinking an already
short
ski
season
while they happily go 

So in a game effort
to reconsider her ways
in early December of 2025
one sunny day
when ten flakes lay sparkling
upon the not quite frozen ground
she said yes to an invitation
and wended her way alongside
corn stalks standing fully visible
row upon row in the field
and pressing up water
or side-stepping it
seeping through tracks
on the flats 

Sure it was lovely out
the sun dazzled
in the early afternoon
the river rushed
below the snow dusted banks
and one could glide some
upon the fields
but walking some
was advisable
upon the sticks and stones
of said wooded banks
and so no
she was not truly converted
though she appreciated
being out in good company
and crisp glorious weather
remembering the physical poetry
of winter that is diagonal stride
the full expression of which
comes much more easily
upon a few hundred fabulous flakes
of fluffy snow
that have fully buried
stones and most other perils 

But the devotees
of five flake skiing
will likely tell you
that she’s the silly one
n’est-ce pas? 

Eh bien,
tant pis
ski and let ski
to each their heart’s content