Non-Erotic PoetryWinter streamOvernight a crisp lace has formed
among the freeze-dried reeds along the bank
and spread across the stream.
It has frozen.
Wind whispers of snow
heading this way but it’s too cold
for the slow downward dance, ice pellets
will sting the skin sifting into ever shifting drifts.
Beneath its translucent shell
the stream still flows on
eager for spring and brimming banks.
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