longing for winter
and the lake, frozen in pieces,
floating in snowy waters,
expansive and mysterious
stretching anxiously from
thick-footprinted sand
to flat gray winter horizon
white on white, gray on gray,
empty and alone without mirage
or oasis
or anything to bring the walls in closer
but simply waves silenced by their freezing
and beach insulated by slush,
plenty off of which to echo
my breathing (which i can see
erupting from my nose, my open lips)
and the free circling of my ideas
in unhindered
naked
dance.
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