Communion
By Andrea Holland
Fisher Creek
On a still winter bright day,
We catch our breath near the crest of a jagged granite ridge
A whisper of wings
Gently interrupts the silence around us
Gracefully, an eagle glides past
At eye level
Its pure white feathered head
Rhythmically rotates
Side to side
Searching for the slightest movement of prey below
I breathe in the moment.
No longer anchored to my skis on the mountain
I am buoyant in flight
Feeling the pillow of air
Beneath my long broad wings
Eyes focused on the rocky landscape below.
Time recedes
Then I exhale.
Back into my body
I glance over to my companion
His eyes tell me
He felt it, too.