in circles

you go down to the frozen
pond, a circled arc of blue,
to watch the people skate.
the graceful ones,
the ones that fall,
the beginners holding on
to air with arms,
like wobbly wings
stretched out.
by winters end, most have
got it down, sliding
easily in circles,
some hand in hand.
some finding love this
way, while others,
hands behind their backs,
trying to forget
as they skate, the past.