Winter's Edge

The water that poured out from the marsh, onto the trail, and had overlaid a part of the pathway there with a silvery-blue coating. Mixed in with the water were twigs and leaves. Then the air cooled overnight. The next day, a thin shell of ice formed on the surface of the overflow, reshaping the forms that were transfixed beneath. A leaf had become like a oyster shell, giving birth to pearls of lustrous bubbles along its graceful curve; the small twigs poked up like trees that had been laid low by a flood; and a broken space, where the thin crust of ice formed a hole, was like a cave where a subterranean river ran, noiseless to the air above-- all as though instrument and music played on the Winter's edge, still undecided which way the weather might go. The next day the ice shapes had retreated, melting back into water, changing mystery into leaves and twigs again there on the wet asphalt trail.