Saturday at the School Ice Rink

The playground floods into a sheet of thin ice,

a green wooden warming house edges the rink,

heater inside — ­­smells of oil, damp wool, candy.

We carry our skates,

laces knotted together, draped around our necks.

We kick off our boots,

lace up our skates tight,

stash our boots under the low bench.

Mr. B. sells candy behind a makeshift counter:

Raisinets, red licorice, Milk Duds.

Music crackles from the loudspeaker outside.

We skate clockwise, circle the rink,

blades carve ice, spin, push off again.

Skate tricks take center,

where the ice spreads wide and open.

We clomp across the wood floor,

press our wet mittens to the heater.

Hands thaw, mittens dry. 

We skate all afternoon.

At night, the older kids hold hands,

glide around to a waltz.

Cheeks red with cold,

legs tired,

joy fills our bones.