Walking Icy Through the Night

Black ice on the road, too slippery

For even the cautious little steps

Of our desperate dance for balance;

Arms outstretched, muscles tensed,

Focused on stability, intent on schedule

Ice coated grasses crunch underfoot.

Tree branches clatter in the wind.

Mist mutes the highway sounds.

Even farm dogs barking as we pass

Don’t pierce our cocoons.

No moon, no stars, yet the air glows.

Reflections in the mist of far off city lights

And lonely farms beckoning.

Underfoot, patches of snow gleam white

Tracing a safe path through the chrysalis of night.

The mist in the air, dew drops on my eyelashes,

Changes even the pebbles on the road

With layer upon layer of ice

Until every surface

Is encased, agate.

Then, without thinking, our steps slow, breathing stills.

We lift our faces to the mist

And step from our cocoons of time and schedule

Metamorphosed there, on the road,

By walking icy through the night.