Third Frost

a mercurial
dance
of skiffing
snow floats,
a cloud
swept strata
oscillating
over
a mid-winter’s
canvas

while the
burnished
sun
sharp reflects
angled
canyons
luminous brushed
with
frozen pouring
ice of
manganese
blue

above
a waxing
moon suspends,
compresses
ice cracked
streams
of thought
between plates
of stacked
limestone walls
contracted

and so
my heart
also lifting
floats,
sees
that even
the heavy
pressed and
swaying trees
have
arcing branches
that
shrug off
snow

and
icy ponds
composed
in tranquil
beauty
have visceral
currents
running
wild
beneath their
icebound
layers

Barbara Barry