Walking in Winter

        1.
black triangle
 heavy on a silver pond just
skimming the the top
 an inverted darkness
 ripples out
 to lap against the
blighted grass.
  On a hill,
             windows stare
  from a dirty
gray house
 the charred hands of winter
trees trying to pull shreds
of sky down to the
  hard,scratchy ground
              2.
 Blackbirds and shadows
  of other birds play with their
reflections on a shiny dish of
      water,
 little waves become smaller still
   dancing among the stilts that hold
             the chalky lace of
   webs up high.

              3.
Is it so strange, then, his dark hand
  against the lilly of her skin,
     drinking in the touch and taste
 of her? They might breathe together
          for a while,
   Leaping from his dream,
       a stone skips across this moment
          leaves him awake
               and lost.