Ice forms over the gently rolling waters
Of lakes–over the trickling creeks,
Brooks and sloughs–over
The puddled rain standing upon
Roadways and parking lots.
Frost covers these same lots
And roads–layers upon the creaking
Boards of footbridges–frosts
The gray, sloping roofs of houses
And their smoke-puffing chimneys,
Their frigid panes, their manicured lawns . . . .
Winter has laid her hands. Hear her:
Hush–Enjoin the stillness–Rest.
. . . and the gently charging wisps
Of snow begin to blanket
Copyright 2009, 2012 by Michael Marsters.
All rights reserved.