Before an Open Refrigerator

The directions were: through the forest,
just beyond the mountain. "What's there?"

"You'll know it when you see it."
Ominous potential last words.

"Is there a specific time to arrive?"
"Sunrise is best."

I topped the adjacent summit the next morning.
Blinding, eye-level sunlight streamed

from within an enormous snowbank tunnel
on the horizon. The entrance extended

like a range hood over the peak where I stood.
My skin reacted the way it did when standing

before an open refrigerator.
They said to prepare for everything.

I wriggled into heat-retention gear,
temporarily disengaged my awe,

put one foot in front of the other.
Of course, I moved toward the light!

But the reverberating buzz of children's laughter—
that is what gave me courage, summoned me forward.