Last morning, I went tramping
With two friends upon the mountain.
Walking briskly on the trail,
Making tenderly our way across the ice,
Finally stopping before time ran out
In a glade to catch the sun, then scrambling
Down-mountain with much joy.
There was hilarity, daring feats,
And silliness in bunches.
But then, passing by the lake I shouted
Stop! And we stopped
We listened and the lake spoke to us.
A long strong note, then again,
Then again. Ice creaking in the cold.
Beautiful, it was, earth-poem on a winter day.
George R. Pasley
February 10, 2021