Winter pond
November 20, 2000
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