[natigvik: Inuit for snowdrift]
When I was a kid of fifteen
I was a downhill skiing fanatic:
I competed in races and skied
every chance I got.
On weekends
that included taking the bus
out to the big ski hill
and skiing across the lake
and into the bush to the ski tow.
After the day was over
I would ski out
and wait alone for the bus
at the side of the wide lake
with my skis and my packsack.
This day, I remember,
I arrived at the bus stop
in time to see the bus
chugging up the hill
away from me.
A storm was blowing up,
it was getting dark
and I had to wait
an hour for the next bus.
I could either freeze to death
in the open wind
that swept across the lake
or take action.
I had no choice:
I burrowed into
the huge snowdrift
out of the wind
and contemplated
my wonderful day
while I waited out the storm
secure and comfortable
in natigvik.