Athabasca Again
BY KATE FLAHERTY

Athabasca Again
white on rock—
receded so far—
in one lifetime
recalling ice wall
ninety
feet
thick
thirty years ago
it loomed gigantic—
breathless we stood
on its surface,
twenty-some-thing
joy, glacier deep
now it’s receded
thin and cracked
less than memory
still it gleams
cool air settles
we stand, older
but solid, resting,
rooted
receding like ice
this scene, dream,
photos under glass
and rising mist—
we stand here
his eyes blue
as glacial runoff
piercing cloud sky
a gift, still
our kids the age
we were then—