Crunch, crunch, white
beneath our feet.
Sting, cold upon our cheeks.
Harsh but fresh,
air we breathe.
Light filters through the clouds
Lake beside us iced,
blanketed with snow.
You turn and beam aflushed,
all bundled in your coat,
boots and hat and gloves,
scarf around your neck.
I cannot help but smile,
and ache to hug you close.
So tame the winters have become,
but not, no not today.
You herald, “Muskrat
crossing up ahead.”
I look to see it scurry
right to left.
It disappears quick down a chute,
where water spills
from lake to stream
across beneath the road.
Not many creatures chance
to brave this cold.
Even so, we spy some geese afloat
way way far out.
Not all this lake has iced.
A friendly dog comes bounding
through the snow,
wags and shivers and barks,
then turns to head right back.
Hello, we wave, to owner
just beside her door.
No, not many creatures out about.
But there are signs that life
is waiting in the wings,
iced over docks and hoists
lots of pots for plants,
and picnic benches, too.
And little sculptures here and there
invite it’s really safe to play.
But sadly, not completely true.
Bam, Bam . . . Bam, Bam . . .
Gun shots sound, quite near.
|
Monday, February 10th, 2020
Fennville
MI
USA
|
