Beaver Dam Estuary
(May set, capital letters indicate beginning of new lines)
Gray
Ice
Blue-grey
Reflecting
Walking carefully
Each step laid with same care as sticks
Desperately hoping to not step through their craftsmanship
Forward trodding, each footprint reinforced by experience and care, young sprouts in sight
Only for the gray muses to cut this journey short, a golden flash, a silent snip, a louder "crunch!" as snowmelt rushes to greet my toes
To wonder, did they find this amusing? Though their home has been broken, I still hear the wind-echos chortling, as ancient mud stirred and settled and tiny silver smelt from a blacksmith long ago escape, I embrace the grey
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