Winter is restive in the lake's depths,
reaching up to seize the dangling ankle,
creeping its fingers up the calf,
preparing for its later upward surge
when it will burst the surface,
freeze it fast, creep over
the whole earth with snow and ice.
Even now it is rising. I think it is time
to climb out of the water, to dry off,
to put on a heavy sweatshirt
and over it a jacket.