The Water's Edge
I go down to the water's edge
waterfowl huddle against the frigid wind.
My lens captures their desperate plight.
The glaze of water’s solid form covers the lake.
Small mammals are lost in mountainous drifts
swimming in the white quicksand
sinking, struggling for purchase.
The wintery blizzard is forced into remission
sun shines again
song birds call out their relief.
Sad evidence awaits
my trek down to the water's edge.
Four lonely bespeckled ducks,
now corpses washed into the reeds
at the water's edge.
The day is warm, winter has left for a time.
Storm clouds gather at the far horizon.
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