Submitted by Jane Dougherty
In the winter pond, the ghosts
of trees are caught in milky moon
light, pale as smoke and pearly
as the dawn that makes the ice
a glacier sky of frozen stars.
Do fish still sweep and curve beneath
the silk smooth surface of the moon,
the mirror glass of space and time?
Deer cracks the glass from side to side
with dainty hoof and scatters stars
into the watery firmament.
Winter, the sound cracks, gunshot-
sharp, like ice on pearly moonlit ponds,
like falling stars, a dainty hoof, pale
smoke recedes between the ghostly trees.
Photo Credit: The Lake and Town of Brienz – JMW Turner