the lake is almost thawed, already
the grey ice turns to slush in the sunlight

water pools along the surface lying
in low spots and along the shore

there should be snow and storms and
days on end of slate skies, and waiting

standing at the picture window in the
living room, to look out on the garden

thinking about spring, about the chores
spring will bring, when the rains stop

and the spongy ground has thawed
and dried enough to share my weight

soon we shall return to the lake shore