WALKING ON WATER: by Cynthia Jobin

the cold comes downward
clutching at zero and below
hardening the river’s edge
to shims and milky floe

carrying the omen of
the last loon’s tremolo

now the rapid river run
must deepen with the chill
grow slower downward
as the alewife also will

under her darkened ceiling
keeping vigilantly still

her ceiling has become
this shining gelid floor
where legged creatures may
step out to gingerly explore

shuffle foot by foot
toward the other shore

take my hand I hear
on a downfloating feather
and cross now safely
on my ethereal tether

should we slip-fall-drown
we will go down together.

┬ęCynthia Jobin, 2015



More of Cynthia Jobin’s poetry can be enjoyed at her blog HERE.

By bonniemcclellan

Mother, poet, american ex-pat from Texas living in Northern Italy.


  1. Beautiful beautiful beautiful. Noting like the most tenuous of nature’s tendrils to draw us down to itself. A feather makes a pact with the reader and we drown in its promise.

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