Across the lake, dark evergreens, heavy with snow,
Crowd upon the eastern flank of mountain rock.
No wave breaks the icy surface of the water’s flow;
No boat sails unimpeded in the frigid wind;
No driftwood found to warm the night
As darkness falls in winter’s silent haste.
If this were no lake but were an ocean
I could sit and hear the waves,
Watch them break upon the shore—
Thoughts slowly sailing into harbor,
Drifting in and out of islands sheltered within the mind,
Moving from cold horizon of the eastern sky,
Roaring upon the beach I scarcely know or feel.