I visit you on this mild mid-winter day
to see if you've survived so far
Still semi-green even through frost
Bare, gray-barked limbs carry ornament bobbers
celebrating the fisherman's upcoming season
Lures, left from lazy casts last autumn, dangle
for children to earn with ragged sticks
The lake patiently waits
for the motorboats' hum.
No buzz of a pole sending out bait,
no laughter from the picnic-families that are warm indoors now.
No recognizable animal voices.
Too quiet, I worry
I throw a stone into the water...
loud plop, rings of life, ripple from the cold breeze
tells me you'll be waiting
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