By Ingrid Stocking, Becketwood Member
I moved to Minnesota in my salad days,
When I was green in judgement, cold in blood
And green enough to get on skis
and bold enough to trek
at 50 below, with wind.
But I confuse my days.
It was pretty warm that day
when I followed someone’s tracks across a creek
down by the Mississippi River.
I wondered — who is dumb enough
to ski over water?
But I followed; I was that dumb too,
and curious. I met a fellow trekker
as she circled and came back,
and we have trekked together
for the past 40 years. The skis have been replaced
by her artificial knee, my aching back,
her walking sticks, my walking canes
but not as yet
by wheel chairs. Two octogenarian friends
have joined us and we now make up
a decrepit quartet, still going at it
in wind and snow, but never ice.
Mr. Pacemaker joins us,
and Lady Arthritis,
and Madame Forgetfulness.
We’ll walk til we drop,
a preferred way to finish out
our salad days.