Windwaves frozen,
still, polished pewter desert,
Thawing begins, aborts,
renews, leaving heal dent and leaf shadow.
Below, the water swifts obscured,
sliding along the ice-crust's belly,
music behind dark, thick glass.
When patches of open water appear
the ice first pretends not to notice its loss.
It lingers, grasps the shore,
opens its heart to rushing death.
~Gail Mahr