back MICHAEL CHITWOOD
The Lake in Winter
When it’s quiet like this,
no boats, no WaveRunners,
the sun in sequins on the calm water,
you can almost hear
the plinkings leaking
from the spring’s mossy bowl
up on the mountain,
the trickle that starts the trek,
that slight spill
that becomes this tonnage of silence.
The Lake in Winter
Practicing His Signature