Trees
he is a speck
moving across
your white sea
a shape
shifting
stopping
to reconnoiter
before moving on
to the next spot
where fish might
be waiting
hours pass
during which I wonder
does he ponder
his current state
and the fact that
if not for the ice
he wouldn't be
there
at all
or does he look at you
around him
what can you
be thinking
ringing the pond
that way
bare bones
against
an equally bare sky
where the sun
does not lie
but shows all
he leaves once
goes ashore
then returns to sit
and waits
and waits
one jot
on a bare canvas
one man
alone
with that sky
with that stillness
then he is gone
no trace of him
from this distance
other than
a tiny memory
shadow
there
on a white
waveless sea
and
that stillness
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