Sunday, February 20, 2011

Ice Fishermen



Over ice
And under the bearded willows,
They trudge
With their cargo of sport.

And through the changes in light,
They wait.

When it's time to leave
By the glow from their lamps,
They do not see through the willows
A purer light.

3 comments:

Denise | Chez Danisse said...

I see them.

Rebekah said...

Depth, beauty, resonance....In the curves of the book pages echoed in the lower tree branches, in the pictorial and written light seen and unseen, the jolt offered by sport and by the foreground/background of book and landscape....My awkward footnote to D's 3 good words.

Cha sen said...

On the shore of Lake Geneva, where I was for a few days, you can see the unexpected.