Parts of the symphony

There’s a snapping and creaking when I try to move
the way I did as a child,
when I could skate into the night
with the other kids, play crack-the-whip
and fall down laughing under the stars –
a hissing of the skates when they meet the ice
just right, and I slide into the corners
and pull up just before I hit the edge –
and the stars themselves, singing up there
while we twist and turn below, etch our names in the cold,
go out and out and some not come back
when our mothers call us home –