With the river calling
and the snowflakes falling
I stretch my stride to the easy downhill track,
Skolaun behind me
and the fantails find me
and my pack is balanced lightly on my back.
At the bridge of thunder
with the torrent under
foaming and boiling, daring a dog to swim,
his eyes enquire
I walk the wire
ferry my pack and then go back for him.
Each step is numbered
my arms encumbered
below the roaring water seems remote.
Without a quiver
he views the river
trusting our friendship in disaster’s throat.
At the bridge’s ending
with the track ascending
I set him down with a smile for the watching fates
My spirits sharing
he bounds uncaring,
looks back for me, and pointedly, he waits.