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—