Lake Charlevoix

We walked out to the edge

where the water had created

a rippling wall of ice on the fence.

The jutting boulders, too,
had a shimmering coat of ice on their peaks.

The reflection of a sparkling sun
was sprawled onto the waves.

There was no land found

to my right or my left.

We trudged through white
walks,
the snow remembering

the slightest curves of our boots.

We made our way behind the grand homes,
whose elongated windows stared

at the climbing waves.

Their yachts would float there in the summertime-

their broad, black bows parting the water,

each boat proudly casting its shadow onto its brother.