Image on Ice

by Michael Macklin

At the hard edge of
dark water
you can catch an glimpse
of yourself reflected
on the growing ice
all frozen waves and ripples
but beneath something begins
to move with a slow thrum
of blood through your heart
beginning the work of awakening.

Even here in the cold
the memory of sun
divided evenly between day
and night starts to warm
a cup of dreams,
sweet tea of Spring
what you hope for
swirls toward boiling,
rises as you do
casting off the covers,
rises as you do,
into the new day