Ice, skin-thin on pond and path
and I can find no meaning
in it; nor in the empty playground
the quiet, bare-tree yards
except
under the ice, water surges slow
and sure; where runoff trickles
in from snowier banks
a heron lifts and glides
poem enough
Graceful Press Poetry 
Very eloquently put. I know that I am often guilty of searching for context or cause when I should simply be appreciating.
LikeLike
Yes, I always want to feel I am producing something–thinking, How can I use this? What can I make of it? Thanks for reading!
LikeLike
Beautiful! Just love the transition and the resolution:
‘Poem enough’ — hope? Gave me a big smile.
LikeLike
Hope, maybe self-forgiveness or at least self-patience. 🙂 I’m glad it made you smile.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love the way you play with form and line-breaks, Jenn. This was a joy to read. I often jot down observations that I worry will lead a poem nowhere, so I don’t post them, but this was so refreshing and beautiful that I’m going to have to re-think that.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks for being so sweet. Nature is such a great healer, isn’t it? I look forward to reading more of your observations!
LikeLike