Ice

On a Christmas Day hike up the Cascade River on the north shore of Lake Superior, I walked and wrote this poem in my head thinking that, sometimes, I am this river.

Ice

river water rolls under the ice, over the rocks,
falling, falling on its way to the lake
drawn downward, rolling stones
round boulders and over –
the lake does not fill up
the river does not run dry
even now, in winter, when snow lands
firmly on the ground and stays until April
when the trees have given up their leaves,
their roots frozen in the ground
water slides
beneath the ice

– Steve Peterson