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.
©Cynthia Jobin, 2015
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More of Cynthia Jobin’s poetry can be enjoyed at her blog HERE.
Enjoyed this poem. Well written
Thank you..that’s very kind of you to say!
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.
I am honored…and very pleased to hear your response to this poem.