Waking up to the ring of the alarm—

Alerting me of the treacherous journey to the pond.

Eerie silence inside the house, 

rushing out my back door to the sound,

of my neighbor's dog barking.

I drag my feet through the knee deep snow,

frigid wind blowing in my face,

 nothing to cover me but my scarf. 

Finally at the pond after the treacherous walk.

Sitting on a rock next to the glistening ice,

chilling my hands while pulling each lace tight.

Pulling the lace through the last two eyelets,

making the bow and pulling the lace through one last time.

One last thing before I skate, 

I wrap the tape around the blade,

adding protection to the blade.

Adding grip to the blade so I can handle the puck.

Finally, that first step on to the thick ice.

The feeling of my skates,

cutting through the ice like a knife through butter.

The wind blowing cold on my face, 

Creating a sensation like no other.