“Winter Hike in Carter Caves’ Box Canyon After an Ice Storm” by Karen George

Near the trailhead you said let’s cross
the creek on the stones: wet, moss-covered,
irregular. But since I broke ankle, fibula, tibia,
uneven ground rattles me.

I stepped on the same stones you chose,
but slipped, tried to right myself,
wound up knee-deep in frigid water.
Well, that’s it for me.

You followed me back to the Jeep,
tried not to laugh,
said, I’d like to see that on film,
how I almost caught myself.
Your hiking stick went flying.
There was nothing I could do.
We couldn’t stop laughing.
When I drained the boot, peeled
off my second pair of socks
and pants, I was dry.

This time we used the bridge to cross.
Snow, leaves, and mud layered the path,
but with my hiking stick you’d retrieved,
I remained upright. A half-hour in,
we reached the three-sided canyon—
sheer cliffs sixty-feet high, sandstone fringed
with icicles. Large chunks, broken free,
lay like shattered crystal at our feet
next to massive boulders feathered
with frosted moss, gnarled with trees.

Back home when I downloaded photos,
I found a video filmed by accident,
the record button struck when I fell—
creek, path, trees, sky shifted,
quivered as in an earthquake.

-Karen George

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