The surface is frozen --
A cold, pristine layer
Of icy isolation,
Thickened and hardened
By the passage of
Extended seasons
Of bleak Winter.
But below the chilling layer,
Dark currents can be seen
Through its spots of
Translucence, those
Dangerous spots where
The ice wears
Thin.
Somewhere within the depths
There flows a warm spring,
An ancient vent to a core
Of such heat as would
Melt the weathered glaciers
Lodged atop the craggy
Surrounding mountains.
The swirling currents
Create a hidden turbulence,
As heat struggles to
Vanquish cold.
All this beneath the
Cold and placid surface.
From the distant mountains
The lake offers no clue
As to its internal turmoil.
Tall and hardy evergreens
Overlook the scene
With silence.
Day becomes nightIn endless cycles.
Outwardly, all is the same.
Inwardly, the lake is changing.
In the dark before the dawn,
A shooting star
Illumines the sky,
Its trail reflected
On the surface of a small
Pool of water --
A melted spot among the ice,
Emanating warmth.
sjk