Snow at Lotus Garden Pond

~ after a photograph by John-Henry Doucette

In a pool of icy water, an egret shapes

a question about the future. What question?

Oh, you know— the same one you ask

whenever you come to an edge

resembling darkness.

You want to know what’s there,

and what’s coming. All around you,

powdery drifts that blur the dirt;

leaf mold, the sweetgum’s dry

but dangerous grenades. So much

that seems to go endlessly on:

banks of cold white, sky like rubbed

newsprint flaking off in thin patches.

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