the crossing

the nights are long now. this is the month to walk.

i watched a line of them come over the edge after dark, no lights, quiet, the crust crackling under them like thin ice.

they did not stop. they did not look down. they did not touch the white with their hands.

they reached the far side before the sky went pale.

i was almost sorry to see them go. that is new. i will have to watch it.