30 Below

You know...

Some people go

out into the snow

at thirty below with their kit off.

Not just their blouses

their boots and their trousers

but every conceivable

bit off.

Then, naked, they make

for a spot on a lake

that's been cleared of the ice

and the snow,

and, stripped to the skin,

they proceed to jump in

and go swimming at thirty below.

I've never seen that

or been that

or done that,

not in situ,

but a glimpse

on a screen

in a snap

in my mind

writing this

makes my

heart thump

my breath catch

with shock

awe

wonder

envy.

So beautiful.

Virgin snow

brooding ice

pure air

silent water.

So cold.

Crisp snow

steel ice.

Frosted air

ice water.

So welcoming.

So deadly.

Bare skin

warm blood

so out of place

so at home

so rebellious

so unlikely.

Barefoot

in the aching snow

bareskinned

in the arctic frost

cut raw

and the ice hole

so tempting

so frightening

And the

nerve...

And the water

shocking

paralyzing

cutting

whipping

each stoke

a fresh

life-giving

agony

unbearable

unrelenting

impossible

And the smiles

happy

free

joyful

And after

the glow

freeze-pink

in a field of

white,

undamaged

unharmed

triumphant

The agony

doing it

lasts minutes.

The agony

not being there

has lasted me

a lifetime

Tony Thorpe