A Cold Shadow

There are lacy patterns of ice on the pond this morning,
floating like crystal doilies in a sea of calm gray.
The sky is a bleached blue, patched with wisps of winter clouds,
and naked branches reach up from the horizon to search for sun.

Where did the summer go?
How was it washed away like a watercolor dream?
What happened to the sweet perfumes, the intoxicating heat,
the euphoria that permeated the landscape?

I stand inside- looking out-
not even wanting to become familiar with this new world-
dismissing any intentions of being friendly.
I lock my door.
Turn up the heat.
Feel pity for everything that has died away with a flood of frost.

Suddenly, sunshine tickles the icy cattails,
makes beams of yellow amid the pine trees,
and pours it's golden treasure upon the surface of the pond.

The ice melts, its delicate netting breaks without a sound.
It dissolves like sugar flowers in the oyster-colored pond water.

A cardinal lands on the fence post like a fat, red kite.
And I celebrate its beauty.

I do not embrace winter,
but I will tolerate it.
And hold fast to dreams of summer-
forever plump with promises...