Poem

Pond

Early morning placid sheen

Of an ovoid pond,

shimmery silver steel,

a reflective pool

in the already hot sun.

It’s lovely and all

but I’m always worried about the depth.

What lurks beneath?

How far would I sink

If I held my breath?

Could I touch the bottom?

Would I find only darkness

And lose all orientation?

No one can walk across water

And I wouldn't try, not even in winter;

the cold is no salvation.

You can’t trust the ice 

To bear the loads I carry

7/13/19