I took this photo and wrote this poem in early January. The snow was a thin frozen layer that morning.
Ice-snow a fresh panorama, a shimmering lake of glass, where green grass once bristled. Billowing morning clouds reflected in glistening white. A lonely island of trees, shivering in dawn light. Ice-snow crunches and breaks as I punch down, creating a path of foot holes. Thin slabs of ice conjure hand-hewn snow houses, 'Great for an igloo,' I ponder wistfully. Ice-snow Easy to navigate for human feet, not for tiny paws that slip-slide, stumbling into sharp edges. My shovel catches and I heave, overwhelmed by its frozen weight. White panorama, Reflecting sky, hugging ground, in a crisp embrace. ∼ ©2016, All rights reserved by Ontheland.wordpress.com