shadow

Winter pond

Midnight glazed the pasture's

one live eye. No more

stubble-silk muzzles

dipping to dribble water;

no more duck bottoms bobbing

skyward.

Moon and sun pass over

in their high processionals

but leave no prints.

Stars are frozen in reflection.

How many circuits now

till thaw and hooves stirring

mud and buttercups?

(c) Copyright 2000. The Christian Science Publishing Society

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