Walking on Snow

The surface is deceptive:

even, smooth, stoic as a frozen lake.

The line between land and sky vanished,

the sun tricks your eyes into seeing, your eyes

trick your mind into believing in solid ground

where there is none.

You step lightly, toes first, testing.

Then, the rest of the foot pressed down,

gently down.

Keeping the other foot planted still,

you lean forward, try your weight,

ounce by ounce, molecule by molecule,

willing the ground to hold,

holding your breath,

waiting for the give, the avalanche,

the free fall into nothing.