^Handler

^{It was winter, and snowdrifts}

^{covered the frozen fens.}

^{Dogs, harnesses, gangline, sled.}

^{In a rush of steaming yips and howls} 

^{you pulled the hook, and} 

^{ran free.}  

^{The dogs quieted, tuglines taut.}

^{The sled creaked and hummed over the trail.} 

^{Gripping the handlebar,} 

^{you shuffled your feet,} 

^{dancing on the rails behind them.}

 

^{Later, a clearing, and a moose carcass,} 

^{its stripped thorax opened,}

^{a bowl to the sky,} 

^{the stained snow packed by rims of ravens} 

^{and wolf tracks.} 

^{The dogs sped up, turned heads}

^{and veered, noses} 

^{working the air.}

^{“On by!” you yelled, voice edged}

^{with false confidence.}

^{You knew the risk}

^{and they listened,} 

^{bemused, but agreeable,}

^{turning back onto the trail.}

 

^{Long after the snows melted,}

^{you circled another thorax.}

^{Not a carcass, but a daughter,}

^{born a season too soon.}

^{You watched, not certain} 

^{you could handle her}

^{or yourself.} 

^{Her tiny form} 

^{breathed with effort,}

^{her body} 

^{vibrated in your hands.} 

^{“On by” became your mantra} 

^{on that long, bony trail.}

^{You hid behind it, even as she grew.}

^{You let go of the sled.}

^{You avoided the dance.}

 

^{There’s no need to dwell on} 

^{what’s been missed,}

^{no need to question past decisions.}

^{Sometimes, avoiding risk is the right thing to do.}

^{Sometimes, it is not,}

^{like now.} 

 

^{Now is your time to}

^trust,

^{to re-become.}

^{Step off this well-worn trail.}

^{Follow your nose, free up your feet.}

^Veer.

^{You are not the handler of her, your child.}

^{You are not the flagging moose, either.} 

^{You are one of us,}

^{you offer much more than a thorax.}

^{Listen for our padded feet} 

^{landing, pressing, lifting as we} 

^{run in shared love} 

^{of the run.}

^{Listen for our call, and answer it} 

^{your way.}

^{We will hear you,}

^{for you are}

^{the tender handler} 

^{of this run.}