_______THE OVERTURE_________
In engaging a walk, of a Winter’s crisp morn,
On a snow-feathered path,
Draped by ice-ladened branches,
My eye’s found a pond of most striking impression-
Mother Nature’s touch of December’s bliss;
Crystalized Ice in the shape of a Heart,
An ardor of Winter’s majesty.
_________THE SCAPE________
____________ | ____________
Subtle breezes stir the pines,
As i approach the glaced pond.
Wafts of snow leave their landing
And my face is bedaubed
By a freckling of snowmist.
And the pond, this pond…
an image of celestial capture,
a figuration of amorous grandeur.
____________ | | ____________
Its surface iced and hues of silver and amber;
Like a prism slowly rising to the call of sunrise.
A spindrifting breeze
Snares the cusp of my nose-
And my eyes close.
The wind changes course…my ear’s are alerted
To a clarion whispering about me.
______DANCE OF THE ICE______
_____________ | ____________
Opening my eyes with anxious emotion,
I behold a most utopic image.
‘Tis a Maiden donned softly in white linen gown,
Kneeling, poised, at the edge of the pond.
Lacing gold bladed skates, with pearl-studded leather,
Reflecting their beauty, off the Suns morning glare.
Nodding her head, she acknowledges my presence…
And my heart, skips a beat, as our eyes connect.
_____________ | | ___________
I respond with a shy, boyish grin;
A curling, sweet smile adorns her flawless visage.
She engages the Ice…spins, begins her dance;
Swirling, encircling, captured in whimsy,
Each movement a freeze-frame of eloquence…..
My breath far behind me, as she raises her arms,
And with her eyes, she beckons me closer.
_________THE DISPAIR________
_____________ | _____________
Sweat on my temples, Sun gaining strength…
I haven’t much time, the daybreak is warm.
_____________ | | _____________
Mother Nature no friend now, to my Lady of Ice;
I must counter and find her a cold winter shadow.
And, stumbling to the pond, alas i reach, but descry-
A puddle… chilled mudied water… my Maiden, begone.
Teardrops from my wincing eye in unashamed sorrow;
The wonder if my Lady escaped her arctic eclipse –
The soulburning Hope, i will see her dance once again.
__________THE HOPING__________
And i sit by this pond, awaiting the night’s frosted stage,
And my Icedancer’s Encore………
___By Frank James Ryan, Jr.___
from “The Verve of Passion & Peril
__Watermark Press Inc./ (c) 2005__
