from the comfort of my house
across a slickened stoop
into the brown grass
that laid in an icy tomb
with a silent hint of green
glistening its way through
ventured I in the January rain
into a frozen world
on the day for MLK

the only sound to rise
against the murmur of the mist
was the cattle who milled
discontented against the trees
and in the heat of living
kept the ice at bay
I thought of people
in another day

headed home from town later
on six lanes that lay new
built to carry those
who hadn’t got there yet
every star extinguished
by this icy mist
in the comfort of the car
heat and noise within