As on a Still Lake

 

It's ice and not fire
That marks the end of the world--
Ceaseless fall of white.

 

Icicles hang low
Seems they're going to reach the ground;
Then what will they do?

Snow shovels waiting;
Dug in the growing bank--
They just couldn't keep up.

The fence is sinking;
Soon it's going to disappear
Under a snow mountain.

Mailbox overturned
Soon to be buried in white,
Ceaseless falling white.

Perched near a snow bank:
The big dead leaf on thee limb,
Still is hanging on.

As on a still lake

Voices float across the snow
Distant and yet near.

Two sets of snow tracks
Passing each other in time:
Animal's and mine.