When the River is Ice

Some time when the river is ice, ask me

When the sun is no longer shining bright

And bird’s songs have become whispers in the winter

Ask me

When Jack Frost is at play

A field of snowman await

When fisherman leave their rods at home

The scent of hot stew warms their bones

Children play in heavens touch of Earth

And mother’s chase after them with scarfs in tow

Ask me

When snow flies from the arms of men

Safe, as they can hear sounds of bears hibernating slumber

And smoke from chimneys fills the skies

From households keeping warm in winters eye

With his gaze, the river shall turn to ice

Knowing then, you can say

Good: now it is time

Taihair Brown ©2014

river is ice

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