THIN ICE 

Ponds glisten in the sun
Only a few are still frozen— 
It may hold until
Spring.

January storms 
turn pine needles to ice,
a winter gem

But big trees have lost branches.
Frost hangs from them 
burning in the late sun.

Half ice and half thaw
But the treetops gleam like stars
points of light dancing.

A duck stands at the edge 
wavering--
one step or another.

Neck craned, 
her beak opens once
to the empty air.