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At a Lake in Winter

In the nacre of morning light
ice tendrils over cobbled stones
touching lake's edge
as surrounding crags plummet
to the surface.

An opaque sky preens
diaphanous plumage 
as I, like Narcissus,
ponder my reflection
in winter's adumbral waters.

My face flickers on the silent depths
like a mirage, an anomaly 
of flesh and bone
in isolated wilderness.
I drop a pebble; the image scatters 
as though blown away by arctic wind.

Soon encroaching cold 
will obscure the lake with a sheet
of luminous crystal;
I'll be gone by then
like an alpine gust of summer
that appeared suddenly
through the spruce flocking 
to a frozen oasis
below desolate summits.


Copyright © Dale Gregory Cozart